


I Feel You

by toxik_angel



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Best Friends, Bottom!Shane, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Empath!Shane, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hot Daga, Jake Bergara is a little shit, M/M, Ryan is a lot all the time, Shane is soft for Ryan, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), Top!Ryan, Watcher Entertainment - Freeform, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxik_angel/pseuds/toxik_angel
Summary: "Holy shit, why is this the first time you've done this?" He asks, almost whispering, awed."It's kinda rough, absorbing it all." I admit, pulling my hand away and slipping my glove back on. "I'm happy to help, though."Ryan looks at his hand, turning it over in front of his face. "I guess that makes sense, all that emotion has to go somewhere. What does it...feel like?""With most people, it's pretty subtle, like if you walked inside a store on a hot day and the air conditioning cools you off a bit. It just kind of washes over you, and eventually, the newness of the feeling melts away.""But it's different with me?"ORShane is an empath, and Ryan is a very emotional guy who needs calming sometimes.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117





	1. The Story

**Author's Note:**

> I just sat down and wrote this entire thing in one sitting, hope you guys like it. It was never supposed to pass 5K words, I swear. I've had the idea floating around my head for a few days, but now it's here and I really enjoyed it. Let me know if you'd like more one-shots or chapter stories in the future about our lovable ghouligans!

**Shane**

It all started midway through season 3.

By then, we were comfortable around each other, and I didn't feel weird taking off my gloves around Ryan. Sure, it made the emotion drifting off him more intense, but that wasn't too bad, worth it, even.

We hung out outside of work now, spending many evenings watching movies and playing games at one or our apartments. Usually mine, since he had roommates. I can get comfortable around certain people, enough to where the empath thing isn't really an issue. Ryan has made himself one of those people, an essential person in my life.

But while we were shooting Supernatural in London, Ryan started getting extra spooked, likely due to the added stress and pressure of working in a different country on a tight schedule.

We had just wrapped filming at the Sorrell-Weed House, our final shoot of the trip, where Ryan was convinced he'd seen some kind of figure behind me, and freaked himself out during his solo time. He was blinking his eyes a lot, and the amount of emotion around him was not surprising, but definitely suffocating.

The crew had left with most of our equipment, telling us they'd meet us at the hotel. I’m sure even they could sense how freaked out Ryan was, and wanted to head out as soon as they could. They also knew I could handle Ryan being Ryan better than anyone else. He is my best friend, after all.

Ryan and I gathered the last of the equipment together, packing it away in cases.

"Hey, you alright? You seem jumpy." I gestured vaguely at Ryan, but my black gloves make it hard to see my hands in the dark anyway. Ryan shakes himself.

"I've been better, as I'm sure you can tell." His voice tremors, and wafting off of him are waves of uneasiness and distress. This is not the first time this has happened on one of our shoots, but for the first time, I take off one of my gloves.

"Give me your hand." I say, holding my bare hand out. Ryan looks at me, uncertain.

"Uh, what?"

"Your hand, give it to me." I flex my fingers, emphasizing.

"Why?" He asks, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm an empath, dumbass, I'm going to calm you down."

"Hey, fuck you. You can do that?" He asks, absently hovering his hand over mine. I shrug.

"I can, I've never met anyone else who does, even other empaths." I ghost my palm against his, gently brushing our skin together to get a feel for what full contact will be like. Preparing myself. Ryan is a very intense person, and I have a feeling touching him will be a lot all at once.

When I finally press my hand against his, grasping firmly, my suspicions are confirmed. I almost jerk away instinctually, assaulted by the terror Ryan's feeling. I let my body absorb his nervous energy, feeling it vibrate through me. It's almost overwhelming, and I'll need some time to myself to recover from this, but it seems to relax Ryan quite a bit. His tense shoulders relax, and his face loses its scared stiffness.

"Holy shit, why is this the first time you've done this?" He asks, almost whispering, awed.

"It's kinda rough, absorbing it all." I admit, pulling my hand away and slipping my glove back on. "I'm happy to help, though."

Ryan looks at his hand, turning it over in front of his face.

"I guess that makes sense, all that emotion has to go somewhere. What does it... feel like?" He asks. I ponder the question.

"With most people, it's pretty subtle, like if you walked inside a store on a hot day and the air conditioning cools you off a bit. It just kind of washes over you, and eventually, the newness of the feeling melts away." I tell him, taking off my chest camera.

"But me?" Ryan prods, and I hum in response, confused and distracted. "You said with most people, what about with me?" He clarifies. I smile fondly.

"You're a lot all the time, even if I'm not touching you. You feel things very strongly, especially things like anger and fear. So, it's like going from a hot kitchen into a walk-in freezer. Very shocking, you don't really get used to it."

"Oh."

His small noise says more than if he'd said actual words. I hurry to reassure him.

"I don't mind, like I said, happy to help you feel better. I recover pretty quickly."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, Shane. Really." He smiles up at me, his gratitude making the whole thing worth it. I smile back at him briefly before looking back at the equipment I'm packing away.

We make it back to the hotel room shortly after, and I'm thankful when Ryan offers me the first shower. I take longer than I normally would with Ryan waiting, but the feeling of being drained slows me way down. I finally get out, towelling off and pulling sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt and my gloves back on. After earlier, I want to ward off as much of Ryan's emotion as I can while I recover.

Ryan doesn't say anything when I come out of the bathroom, but I see him look at my gloves and can feel his... disappointment? bummed-outtedness? He gets up and locks himself in the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on again.

While Ryan is in the bathroom, I open the sliding door to the little balcony, leaving it a crack open when I'm outside. The cool midnight air calms me, and I look at the moon, a small smile on my face. Nature has always soothed me, helped me release all the emotions I pick up from people nearby. With Ryan on the other side of two doors, I can barely sense him at all, just the faintest tinge of something.

Eventually, the shower turns off, and I take a few deep breaths, ready to head inside. When Ryan comes out, I'm tucked into one side of the bed, facing away from the bathroom and staring out the window.

"I'm sorry about earlier." His voice almost startles me, and I roll over to look at his face in the dim light.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything." I frown at the stiff mask he has arranged his features into. Despite the way it looks, he's nervous and a little sad.

"I don't want you touching me if it's going to hurt you or wipe you out or whatever." He explains, pulling back the blankets to get in bed next to me.

Even though I'm an empath and could demand my own room with 'disability and inclusion' laws, I don't insist that Buzzfeed get us two rooms, and we often don't even get two beds, like tonight. I feel comfortable around Ryan, and he's my friend. If I demanded space from him, he'd no doubt take it hard. I don't mind sharing a space with him.

"Don't worry about it, Ry. I've been feeling lots of emotions my whole life, I'm happy to get a little tired if it helps you to calm down and relax."

"Of course you are." He murmurs, and I look at him pointedly.

"What was that?"

"I said of course you're happy to help. You don't know when to quit, Shane. One of these days, you're going to help other people all the way to your own early grave."

"Ryan, do you trust me?" I ask, eyebrows raised. His demeanor changes, he looks more on edge than before, like I'm gearing up for some big stunt.

"Of course I trust you." He assures me.

"Then trust that I know when to take a step back, okay?"

"Okay."

"Go to sleep, little guy." I say through my yawn, rolling back over and getting comfortable, as I can hear Ryan doing behind me.

"Goodnight Shane."

xXx

The next day, Ryan is in the bathroom when I get up, and I step out onto the balcony again, this time feeling the sun on my skin. I pull out my phone to look for any parks or museums nearby, planning on taking today to relax and recharge my social battery. I find a large nature conservation nearby, shocking me with its existence. I plan my little trip out, and Ryan opens the door behind me.

"Hey, shower's free if you want to clean up." He offers, turning to leave.

"Come out here, it's a beautiful day in London town." I smile, and I see a tiny smile dancing on his face, hesitant. I gesture with my head for him to join me, and he does. We look out over the town, Ryan at peace with life for a change. We have the whole day to ourselves, and although I'm planning on going alone to the conservation, I want to spend the morning with my friend.

"What are you doing today?" I ask casually. He shrugs.

"Haven't made plans. I thought it might be nice if we just hang out here, maybe do some reading or a little light work or something. Go out and see the town later this evening if we want." He's turning his phone around in his hands over and over, a distracted habit of his, but he isn't nervous now.

"Oh, I uh, I planned to go to this conservation around lunch, thought I'd get out a bit and stretch my legs. But the evening town-seeing sounds good, go to a pub maybe..." I tell him, feeling his disappointment come back strongly as I speak.

"Go to the conservation by yourself?" He asks, barely even trying to hide the hurt in his tone.

"Yeah, uh, I just like to go places by myself sometimes, relax and recharge... you know, as I do..." I ramble, not sure how to proceed without making him sadder.

"Sure, yeah, I get it I guess. Maybe I'll go somewhere, a museum or a movie or something." He says quietly.

"Don't overthink this, Ryan." I tell him, looking him in the eye suddenly. If it startles him, he doesn't acknowledge it. "It's just like me going off alone every weekend, just in London. I'm no different today."

He frowns.

"We hang out on weekends. Or at least, we have before."

"No, we hang out on Friday nights and Sunday nights. We've never hung out on a Saturday.” I point out. Ryan is dripping in emotion now, and I feel like I’m suffocating. 

“You’re... you’re right. Fuck, you’re right. I have no idea what you do on the weekends.” He admits. I didn't mean to upset him, I genuinely thought he was aware that weekends are my recharge days. I fill him in.

“I go on hikes, I visit lakes, I look at trees. Nature refreshes me, I need that sometimes. Nothing to do with you, I love when we hang out.” I try to reassure him. Where I prefer fewer heartfelt speeches and emotional declarations, Ryan needs them to feel cared for, likes to hear it out loud to quiet his overthinking brain.

“I do too. I’m s-"

I cut him off.

“Stop it, Ryan.” I command, and he, surprisingly, clamps his mouth shut. “Don't apologize. One of the reasons I liked hanging out with you even before Unsolved was that you didn’t tread on eggshells around me. Don’t start now.”

“Right. Okay.” He moves to his feet. “Well, I’m going down to breakfast, feel free to join. Or not,” he adds, giving me a light punch to the shoulder. I nod, smiling at him as he leaves, closing the glass behind him.

Eventually, I get up, splashing some water on my face and getting dressed. When I go down to breakfast, I see Ryan sitting at the bar, chewing toast distractedly and looking at his phone. I take a seat next to him, and he looks up, surprised.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d come down.” He says conversationally, looking back at his phone.

“I’m not skipping free breakfast.” I smile, digging into eggs and sausages piled high on my plate.

We sit in a comfortable quiet after that, Ryan is scrolling through movie options for the day before deciding on two back to back shows at a theatre nearby. Today is shaping up to be a good day off, and we say our goodbyes, parting ways outside the hotel. He went in the direction of the theatre, I headed towards the nature I craved.

When I got there, it was mercifully empty, just pathways and benches and birds chirping in the background. I sat here and there, closing my eyes and letting myself recharge. The fresh air in the middle of a city was rejuvenating, and when I finally left around four o’clock, I was feeling amazing. And starving.

I texted Ryan in the elevator of the hotel, asking when his movie would be done and we could meet for food. I opened our room’s door, surprised to see a mostly naked Ryan on the floor doing push-ups.

I’m glad I’m the empath, because some unholy thoughts ran through my mind at the sight.

“Uh...” I started, unsure what the next step was here. Ryan looked up, mid-pushup.

“Oh hey, sorry, I’m almost done.” He looked back down to continue, and I counted at least twenty more before I lost track, stepping over him to open the balcony door and lean against the doorframe. I tried to look busy on my phone, but kept glancing back down at him as he finished.

My crush on Ryan was not new. I found him attractive the second I laid eyes on him, but found out he was straight shortly after, so I didn’t feel the need to inform him. Still, every now and then, as a treat, the universe or whatever rewards me with things like this, or a shirtless Ryan in a video, which I definitely didn't watch multiple times at home after it was uploaded. I'm sure half of the views on the P90X and acupuncture videos were from me. Ryan finished and stood up, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry about that, I got back from the movies and I was really jazzed, they were both amazing. But you weren’t back yet so then I had all this energy and nothing to do, so,” he gestured to the floor. He’s still shirtless, wearing only loose-fitting basketball shorts which hide nothing. A light sheen of sweat glistens on him. After the movie and the workout, he’s riding high on endorphins, which means a sunny joy and ease are radiating off of him. I absorb the emotions happily, the pleasant feelings doing the opposite of what his fear had done to me last night.

“I’m glad you had a good time, we should see it together when we get back home,” I suggest, and smile as his eyes light up at the idea. “But now, I’m starving.”

He grins, walking to the bathroom, grabbing his discarded clothes from earlier off the bed.

“Give me five minutes to hose off and we can go.” He takes his third shower in 24 hours, and we leave ten minutes later.

The pub we’d filmed in before was open, and we stopped by for sandwiches and drinks. The manager, who had been present when we were there just a few days ago, greeted us happily and told us drinks were on the house.

The bustle of the city was overwhelming, but at the same time, I was happy to partake in it. How often do you get a free trip to a different country with your best friend, film at some neat historical locations, then get flown back home, having made money on the trip?

Ryan was close by my side the entire evening, radiating heat and emotion the entire time. We barely touched at all, and never skin-on-skin. I could still feel what he was feeling, but an easy, watered down version. He seemed more at ease now than he did earlier, and I’m glad for that. 

By the end of the night, I was feeling good, and when we circled back to the hotel for the evening, both of us were more than a little toasted. After brushing our teeth and stripping out of our clothes all the way down to boxers, we were ready for sleep.

“No gloves tonight?” Ryan asked me around a yawn. I shook my head enthusiastically.

“Nah. I’m all recharged and have tons of energy - here, lemme show you.” I grab for his face, holding his cheeks in my hands and squinting into the middle distance. I could feel Ryan’s contentment, slight confusion and heavy disorientation. I pushed harder, sending a wave of peace into his head, smiling when I could feel the thought reflected back at me through the space between our bodies.

“Holy fuck, dude! What the hell was that!” He grabs my wrists, not moving my hands away. I grin.

“A little present for you, like it?” I caress his cheek with my fingers, and Ryan thinks, face contorting. I move my hands away from his face, clasping them together, the lesser sense in my wrists still connecting us where his hands touched me.

“I do like it, but fuck man, it gave me a boner, that supposed to happen?”I burst out laughing, rolling onto my back. He laughs too.

“Sure, if that’s what gets you going, sure!” Our laughter eventually subsided, and Ryan’s thumbs rub gently over my skin. It feels nice, and I yawn.

“Am I too intense?” He asks suddenly.

“What? No, dude, you're you.”

“No, I mean like. Is being around me always exhausting you?”

This is too serious a conversation for our current state, so I hum a noncommittal noise.

“Can be exhausting, but worth it. I love you, man.”

Ryan snickers.

“The big guy’s a sap, huh? I love you too, Big Guy.” I smile automatically at his nickname for me, and relax my clasped hands against his arms on the mattress. By keeping my hands together, my most sensitive skin is only touching me, and Ryan is touching only my wrists and the back of my hands. Works out well, stimulation-wise. Not too much, not too little.

Ryan gears up to say something else, but by then, I’m checked out and falling asleep.

I wake up hours later, cuddled against him. My hands are still firmly twisted together, but now, Ryan's chest is plastered to my back and his arm thrown over my waist. I smile, falling back asleep in his warm embrace.

I'm woken up again later, when the sun streams through the open curtains and my phone is buzzing on the nightstand. I grab it, squinting at the name on the screen.

"Yeah?" I croak, groggy, slightly hungover and very warm from where Ryan is just stirring against my skin.

"Shane, good, you're awake. We're ready to leave in an hour, the cab will be outside ready to take us to the airport at 10. Don't be late." Devon's calm voice instructed me, and I pull the phone away to glance at the clock: just before 9.

"Yeah, okay. Meet you down there." I mumble, hearing her acknowledge and then hang up. I put my phone back down and roll over against Ryan, planting my hands on his bare back. "Hey, little guy, time to wake up." I tell him gently, sending a feeling of alertness that I can't match into his body. Once Ryan is awake, I'll wake up more too.

"Dude, the fuck?" He says, jolting up. I laugh slightly. "You just doing that all the time now?" He rubs his eyes, but I can hear the smile as he speaks.

"Whenever necessary, sure." I agree, swinging my legs out of the bed and getting up.

"Just so you know, every time you do that, I get a boner." He mutters, and I can see him adjust himself in his underwear from the corner of my eye.

"What, you're saying I give you a boner? Okay, Ry..." I tease, bringing clothes into the bathroom and closing the door before his embarrassment can hit me.

"Fuck you." He manages, sounding indignant. I smile to myself, cleaning up as best I can and getting dressed. When I come back out, he's also dressed, packing his laptop and anything else lying around into his suitcase.

"We have enough time for breakfast if we get down there soon." I tell him, checking the time on my phone. Sure enough, it's not even 9:30, and packing only takes us a few minutes longer before we're ready to check out and get some food for the road.

When we get to breakfast, Devon is nowhere to be found, but Mark and TJ are there. They barely greet us, both of them being some of the most understated people in Buzzfeed.

"What did you guys do yesterday?" I ask around a mouthful of potatoes. Mark shrugs. TJ answers me.

"We went to a couple pubs, walked around the city. Nothing crazy."

I know neither of them will ask us back, but I answer anyway.

"Sounds fun. I found a nature reserve in the city. Ryan did pushups in our room." I nudged my friend with my knee, filling my mouth again as he made an indignant sound.

"I did a short workout after seeing two incredible movies, asshole. Glad you enjoyed the birds, though." He snorts, his irritation minimal in his teasing tone. Mark rolled his eyes, and Devon joined us moments later.

"You ate birds, Shane?" She asked, only hearing the tail end of Ryan's comment.

"No, I went to a nature conservation yesterday and listened to birds." I correct, finishing my food and chugging the last of my coffee.

"Well, glad you enjoyed your birds. It's time to go." She tells us, and I pick up my dishes.

"You're not going to eat?" Ryan asks her, stacking his dishes on top of mine.

"I already did, I just got off the phone with the owner of that property you were looking at for next season, the prison. We're good to film there when you get back from Florida."

Right. Florida. Ryan and his brother Jake had a trip to Disneyworld planned for right after we get back from the UK. It was Jake's spring break or something, and Ryan had excitedly told me their plans immediately after making them. I was of course happy for them getting a fun break, but will miss my co-host for the week they would be gone.

"That's amazing, I can't wait to go there. It has such a cool vibe, Shane, you're going to love it."

I hum, taking our dishes to the dish-return counter. When I got back, Ryan was still buzzing with excitement, and I felt myself easily swept along. We gathered our things, heading out to the front of the building to wait for our ride.

Ryan looked up at me, almost shyly, giving me a soft, private smile. I smiled back, and he rocked his body to bump against my side.

"I had fun yesterday." He says, softly enough that our crew won't be able to hear him, standing a couple feet away.

"Me too, little guy." I agree, letting the bare skin of my arm brush against his for a second, and he seemed to appreciate the gesture. We were picked up moments later, not getting another chance to talk until we were on the plane.

Ryan and I sat together, Devon at the front (she got her ticket first, always more on top of it than any of us), TJ and Mark somewhere around us.

"Can I... ask questions... about it?" Ryan started, quiet and nervous. I looked down at him, setting my ginger ale down on my tray table. I shrugged.

"Ask away."

"Why gloves? Like, I get that your hands touch more things than most of the rest of your body, but like, why not a face mask or hat or something?" He asks, gesturing to my hands. I thought about the question.

"You know how... did you ever see those science illustrations about skin, like in elementary school, where it's like, your palms, bottom of your feet, lips, etc. Those areas tend to be most sensitive?"

"Sure."

"Well, you putting your hand on my arm isn't as big a deal as me putting my hand on your arm, since my arms aren't as sensitive as my hands. So, gloves."

"Huh, that makes sense. So what about like..." Ryan trailed off, but his eyes point downward to my lap, and I laugh a little louder than I should've, catching the attention of a few people around us. Ryan shushes me, but can't take the grin off his face.

"Shut up, Shane!" He hisses. I wait a few seconds, as our neighbors turn their attention back to themselves.

"Yes, down there is... a lot." I tell him. It's been awhile since I've had sex, at least penetrative, and it's always been almost too much to deal with. Long term relationships often didn't work out since our sex life was pretty chill, although even that was difficult for me. Sex felt almost... performative, at a certain point, just something to keep my partner interested enough to stick around. Ryan shifts in his seat.

"Is it better, that you're like that? Or does it fuck everything up?" He asks, quiet again.

"It usually fucks everything up." I admit, feeling warmth on the tips of my ears as I share this with my best friend. "Normally, people get impatient or bored after awhile, so."

"That sucks, man."

"Yeah."

He lets me drink more of my soda before he asks anything else, and I almost think he's done, except for the lingering wave of curiosity.

"What happens if it's like... too much?" He asks, hesitantly. "Like not just... but like, living with someone, or whatever."

I can figure out what he's asking more by the blanks left in the question than by the words he did say.

"I get really cranky, sometimes, spend a lot of time away from them if I get too worn out. A couple times, I've fully passed out while doing it, so that sucked a lot." I laugh a little, remembering each partner freaking out when I came to, and then I had to get out, get away from them just to recover from being overstimulated and then assaulted with worry when I woke up. That usually would freak them out even more, and only once did the person try to salvage the relationship, which eventually ended anyway.

"Passed out? Like, fainted?"

"Yeah, one second we're..." I make a crude gesture, "and the next, they're freaking out over me, and then I just have to get the hell out of there before their panic makes me pass out again."

"Wow, that would really suck. Don't even get to finish or anything." Ryan is shaking his head.

"Yeah, I know." I laugh, almost bitterly.

xXx

Three days later, we're back at the airport pulling into the passenger drop-off zone, but this time, we have fewer cameras and replaced them with Ryan's brother, Jake.

I jump out of the front seat, opening up the trunk to pull their bags out. I faintly hear Jake taking a video in the backseat, talking to the camera about his trip. If I didn't know better, I'd say the kid was vlogging.

Ryan appears beside me, shouldering his backpack and throwing a second bag at Jake, who is getting out of the car.

"I'm here with my brother, Ryan, and his boyfriend, Shane-" He says, his tone bland as he pans the camera over to us. I just roll my eyes, ignoring the camera, and Ryan huffs out a little 'dude.'

"But Shane's not coming, he just drove us here." He continues, his phone held at the recognizable vlogger-level - slightly above his head and to the right. He ends the video, taking his suitcase and backpack from me.

"That would make me your big brother-in-law, right? So you have to do what I tell you." I joke, giving him a soft shove away from the car so I can close the trunk.

"Whatever, I don't even do what Ryan tells me to, so good luck with that." He shrugs.

He heads inside the airport, shifting his backpack forward to pull out his boarding pass and ID.

I look over at Ryan, who looks like he's laughing at us.

"Thanks for the ride, Big Guy." He says, moving closer to give me a hug. I wrap him up, my limbs long enough to come back around to my own shoulders. Over Ryan's head, I see Jake taking a picture of us, so I put my middle finger up. He grins.

"Anytime, Ry. Take lots of pictures and don't kill Jake when he drives you crazy." I tell him, leaning my face against his hair. The contact sends butterflies through my chest, and I'm not sure if they're mine or Ryan's.

I pull off one glove, releasing Ryan from the hug and grinning at him.

"Secret handshake for the road?" I suggest, and although he rolls his eyes, we go through our dumb little ritual. I made it up to distract Ryan while on location, but now it's become a thing we do to reassure each other when we're getting emotional.

Jake shouts for Ryan through the door, and Ryan looks up at me, a small smile on his face.

"I'll be back in a week." He reminds me, and I slide my hand back into the glove, nodding.

"And that'll be a week too soon." I tease, punching his arm as he turns to go.

"Sure, buddy. I'll see you."

"Text me when you've landed." I call right before the airport doors slide closed behind him. Jake rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Ryan nods, waving.

Jake says something to him that I can't hear, but Ryan blushes up to his ears. I smile fondly.

xXx

Ryan has been gone for two days, and I'm turning into the worst. Everyone in the office is avoiding me, especially other empaths. Even Jen, who usually put up with me longer than the other empaths, steered clear of me all day. I work at my desk quietly, bored out of my mind and lonelier than I really should be.

Every time my phone buzzes, I grab for it immediately, disappointed every time it's not a text from Ryan. Jake texts me once or twice, just a picture of Ryan doing stuff. He never responds to my messages, but the fact that he thinks to text me at all is really quite sweet. I save all the pictures, opening them up to look at them when I get irritable.

I leave the office early on Wednesday, coming back after lunch only to pick up the stuff I'd left at my desk. Nobody stops me, although I see several people giving me weird looks.

I go to my favorite recharge spot, a bench at a lake an hour outside of LA. I sit there, watching the wind move over the water. It's quiet aside from the nature sounds, and I hum a song that's been going through my head.

The longer I hum, the more song is created, and I open up my voice recorder on my phone to record the melody. I have no idea what to use it for, but something relating to the Hot Daga is in the back of my mind.

I pull up my notes app, reading through the last few weeks' episode notes and taking new notes as they come to me.

I play the recording back, reading over my lines and tweaking the text as I go.

Soon, a song is born, one I know will absolutely destroy Ryan if he has to sit through it. It's barely a minute long, but already, I feel more accomplished than I have all week.

As it gets dark, I make my way out of the park, driving home with the song and my ideas for the new episode running through my head.

When I get home, I pull out my laptop, typing quickly as a script is created.

I text our office manager later to secure a recording booth for myself, and although she seems surprised, she agrees to reserve one for me tomorrow.

I go to bed, smiling for the first time since Ryan left. He's going to hate this.

xXx

I'm in the office on time for a change, and the other people who get there on time look both shocked and nervous that I'm there so early. I dump my stuff on my desk, peeling my gloves off and grabbing my phone and laptop, making a beeline for the recording booth I'd been promised.

It's one without a window, and I make a note to buy the office manager coffee sometime.

The song flows easily, and I make notes of how I want it animated as I go. The whole session takes a little over an hour, and by the time I'm done, it's about the time I normally get into the office anyway.

I get to my actual work, actually paying attention to what's on my screen for a change. If anyone finds my behavior odd, they don't mention it, and by the end of the day, I'm happy with the stuff I'd gotten done.

I watch some tv, do some fun reading and go to bed, ready for when we film the postmortem so I can show Ryan my work.

xXx

The rest of the week goes by quickly enough, and the weekend is quiet, so I spend most of it reading a new book that Ryan had gotten me a bit before his trip - likely to keep me occupied right now.

Ryan and Jake are getting back on Sunday afternoon, and Mrs. Bergara volunteered to pick them up, since she'd be driving Jake back to his university anyway, and could drop Ryan off at home on the way.

I was vaguely aware of what time they were scheduled to land, and tried harder to focus on my book. I will not be the desperate wife itching for news on her husband's arrival back home.

That all goes out the window when my phone dings from the table I left it on across the room. The ringtone hadn't even ended by the time my phone was in my hand and I had Ryan's text open.

_Ryan: home safe_

_Ryan: :)_

I let the message sit for three minutes - I timed it - before I typed back a quick response.

_Shane: good, hope trip was fun_

_Shane: show me pics tomorrow_

I waited for a response, but Ryan just sent a thumbs up back.

He's no doubt tired, wanting to get cleaned up and go to bed. We have work tomorrow, and we're filming later this week. Ryan is going to be wiped out by the end of the month, after an international trip, a cross-country trip and then another cross-country trip to Ohio to film.

I let it go, turning my phone off, brushing my teeth and going to bed.

xXx

Monday morning, I'm at work as soon as the building is unlocked. Ryan likely won't be in for a couple of hours at least, but I don't want to wait any longer than I have to to see him again, so I want to be here as soon as he shows up. If my coworkers were surprised at how early I'd come in on Thursday, they were even more shocked to see me at my desk when they arrived after me.

Jen stops short when she sees me, frowning. I'm sure I'm dripping in both nerves and desperation, but there's too much emotion already inside me to care about what they think on top of it. She raises her eyebrows at me, a gesture asking 'dude, you okay?' I shrug, nodding. She sits down at her desk, no doubt tuning me out while she starts her computer up.

As 10 o'clock approaches, my nerves ratchet up a notch, Ryan never comes in later than ten. Jen looks back up at me from across the room, frowning. I can faintly feel her concern, but it melts away when she catches sight of something behind me. I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me, and the flavor of the emotion is familiar enough to make me want to cry.

Ryan's here, and I can feel when he sees my back at my desk, his primary emotion switches to something more relaxed and happy. I pretend to be working, glancing up one more time at Jen. She makes a face at me, mocking my relief, but smiles at me after. I look away from her.

"Hey Big Guy," I hear behind me, and Ryan drops his bag down on his desk as I turn in my chair.

"Ryan, good to have you back, buddy," I smile, acting nonchalant even as I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. The anxiety in my stomach swoops as I lay eyes on him, taking note of the scruffy facial hair, his tanned skin - a shade or two darker than when he left - and the thrown together outfit. He probably woke up half an hour ago.

"Good to be back, I missed you." He smiles, knocking his hip into my shoulder before sitting down. The combination of his words - _he missed me???_ \- and the warmth of his body next to mine, I feel more than see Jen's annoyed face as she pushes away from her desk, heading to the breakroom. My roiling emotional state is going to drive her crazy all day, and I'll have to buy her a pizza or something to thank her for putting up with me.

"I missed you too, little guy." I say back, although it's been a beat too long since Ryan spoke, and he looks at me weird. I smile at him, a big, dopey grin, slide my headphones onto my ears and turn back to my desk.

xXx

"I got you something." Ryan kicks my chair with his foot. I turn to him, curious.

"What?"

"I brought you something from Florida. Souvenir." He explains, fishing through his bag, eyes lighting up when he finds it. He pulls it out, and I start laughing.

"What is this?" I ask, examining the little figure he places in my hand.

"It's a little voodoo doll, a little Ryan." He says, grinning back. The figure is comically misproportioned with a giant head and tiny limbs. It has black hair and little black beads for eyes.

"I love it, thanks Ry," I say fondly, turning the doll over in my hands. His head has a keychain attached, and I hook it to one of the pushpins on the wall by my desk.

We go to lunch, he shows me pictures and tells me the highlights of the trip. I laugh easily, relieved to have him back in the office and not willing to look further into why I'd been so lonely without him.

He has to actually work, though, finishing a script for this episode's VO and confirming our trip details with Devon. I know Ryan is excited to film on-site, but I also know he will be terrified once we actually get there, so I absorb his excitement while it lasts.

xXx

We film our postmortem for the London Tombs early, and I'm antsy in my seat, waiting for the end so I can share my nightmare with my best friend. He's going to hate it, almost 5 minutes in length, this episode is going to be the finale he wasn't waiting for.

He makes an attempt to leave before it starts, but sits back down and resigns himself to it while I launch into the show's preamble. He makes a few comments before the story starts, but ultimately sits back to listen, looking annoyed, but the affection rolling off of him betrays his true feelings. He lets me get away with this stupid story because he knows it makes me happy. But even with this acceptance, the stupidity of the whole thing will eventually get him all riled up, and I can't wait for that point.

"I now pronounce you, Fries and Corn!" I say in one of the funny voices. "Beautiful," I remark, as myself. Ryan lifts his head.

"Is that it?" He asks, hopeful.

"No."

"Fuck." He whispers, and I almost laugh. I launch back into the story. A few more lines, and I cue the song.

"I have this recorded, so- we're just going to wait one minute and twenty seconds for this song to play. We won't hear it here, but um, let me start the stopwatch here-" I mutter as I pull up the one minute and twenty second timer I'd set up earlier.

"Wait, what?" Ryan asks. I wave a hand to dismiss him.

"The song's playing."

Ryan continues to object, but I shush him until he stops talking, hanging his head in irritation.

We sit, mostly quietly, as the timer runs out, and I can feel Ryan's frustration seeping out of his pores. I smile. He sputters, unsure what to say at the end of the timer. I can't wait to show him the full song later, with the animations. I plan on recording his reactions.

"I-is that it, though-" He starts, but I cut him off again, continuing the story.

He laughs when I scream in multiple different voices so the mic picks them all up to be combined later.

"Shut up, shut up, Ryan, now I have to do it again."

"Oh my god."

He shakes his head as I finish, taking a sip of my tea. He just blinks at the camera until TJ calls to cut.

"I can never leave you by yourself again." He turns to look at me, still fuming. I laugh. "That was... awful, I hope you're proud of yourself."

"I am proud of myself, and you're going to laugh when you hear the song. It's some of my better work, actually." I tell him, a grin stretched wide across my features.

"Fuck you, dude, that was the worst." He gets up, taking off his mic and handing it to the intern to put away. I can tell she's finding this banter hilarious.

"You love it, deep down. I can feel your emotions, Ryan, you love the Hot Daga." I tease, although it's not really true, and Ryan knows this.

"Oh my god, I have actual work to do now, I'll see you later." He says, leaving our set as I take off my own mic and move to talk to the sound guys to make sure everything is put together how I envision it.

A couple days later, I plop down on the couch in the break room next to Ryan, holding my phone out for him to take.

"What the hell is this?" He asks, looking at the screen, where he and I sit at our postmortem desk on pause. "Is this the fucking..." He runs a hand over his face. "This is the fucking song, isn't it." He groans. I just smile and tap the play button, grabbing his phone next to him and opening up the camera.

The story, which he's heard, gets little reaction from him, but then the song plays, and his eyebrows inch up his face.

"Fuck, this is almost good." He whispers, and I don't know if that'll even be heard on-camera. He barks out a laugh, and I grin, feeling vindicated. "Holy fuck, dude, you went hard on that song." He says finally after the whole thing ends. I feel pride swell up in my chest.

"Told you." I say, trying to mask how giddy I am at his compliment. He looks at me like he can see right through me, shaking his head but still smiling.

"So you missed me, I take it?" He jokes, poking my side. I roll my eyes.

"No, I was bored out of my mind." I correct, which is also true.

"Don't worry, buddy, I'll take you with next time I go on vacation." He promises, patting my knee. My heart skips a beat, but I recover quickly.

"Yeah, sure you will."

xXx

When we pull up to the Ohio State Reformatory, I have to admit that it's imposing. The likelihood of squatters or teenagers up to no good on this property makes me uneasy, but I push the thought to the back of my mind.

"Fuck, dude, this place is awful. I already hate it." Ryan says from behind the wheel.

We go through the motions of filming the intro and everything, and nothing goes wrong - Ryan even holds himself together pretty well, although the setting and his apprehension is vibrating through him softly the entire night.

I'm already feeling a bit worn out by the time we take our solo trips, but I keep it together and make it back easily, the time away from them actually helping me recover even just slightly.

Ryan took his own trip with Mark while I was gone, and had gotten moderately spooked, so he was dripping in fear when I met him to switch places. When he went on his solo trip, I sat back, trying to block out the noises and light conversation of our crew while we waited. Finally, it was time for him to come back, and while he had a faint feeling of relief, the terror was still pretty strong on him.

"Fuck, I forgot the fucking spirit box." He mutters, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Better go get it." I hint, not moving.

"My hands are full!" He protests, waving the equipment around, but I just shrug.

"Try your best."

He glares at me, but turns around and heads back into the hallway.

When he comes back, he's overwhelmingly scared, more than he'd been in London. I take a deep breath or two, but he's just quaking beside me as we get out of there.

Our crew leaves us in the lobby of the hotel, going to the bar for drinks, but I take Ryan upstairs to our room.

"You have to calm down, buddy." I tell him, already taking my gloves off as the door closes behind us. Ryan paces the small space, and I slump down on the bed, leaning forward to untie my boots and kick them off.

"Shane, I'm sorry, I know it takes a lot out of you but I just- can you-" He waves his hands around and I get what he means.

"Yeah, okay little guy. C'mere." I gesture for him to sit down next to me, rolling up my sleeves. His emotion is making me lightheaded, but I push through anyway. Once he's feeling better, I would be able to take a break and recharge myself. I wouldn't ditch him when he's so terrified like this.

He holds his hands out, and I grasp his hands tightly, closing my eyes. My fingers twitch as I'm assaulted with feelings, my heart picks up as I try to take a deep breath, opening my eyes. My vision tunnels, and I hear Ryan say my name, but it sounds a hundred feet away from me. He's trying to pull his hands away, but I strengthen my grip.

A fresh wave of emotion - stronger and more frantic than before - fills my body, and Ryan is shouting now, shaking our hands like he's trying to get me to let go.

I black out.

xXx

I'm laying on something hard on my side, slightly curled up. My head is pounding, and my hands are tucked against my chest. I blink my eyes open, hearing movement nearby. Running water, footsteps, breathing.

There's a lot of emotion, fear, frustration, apprehension, and I need to get away from it, or I'll pass out again.

"Oh thank fuck." I hear Ryan's voice say quietly, and I turn my head to look at him. I'm laying on the floor of our room, and Ryan is holding a damp washcloth in his hand. I flinch as a drop falls onto my neck.

Ryan leans down, wiping my face with the cloth, and the cool water soothes my skin. I feel exhausted, though, and being near Ryan isn't helping. I move to sit up, now noticing my gloves back on my hands and my sleeve meeting their edge. I wince, knowing Ryan had to deal with my comatose body while freaking out more than ever.

I stand up too quickly, and my vision tunnels again while I grasp for Ryan with a faint cry. He's beside me in an instant, supporting me while my sight clears.

Although he doesn't say anything else, he's _feeling_ so much, and when he helps me to sit back down on the bed, the feelings intensify again. Guilt, sadness, fear.

"Ryan, I gotta go." I try to say, my voice hoarse and weak. More emotion, more fear.

"I know, buddy. I know." Is all he says. I notice my boots are back on my feet, and my wallet and key are sitting on the bed next to me. God, he knew I would wake up and run... that's an awful feeling.

I give him a sad look, pushing to my feet and moving out the door before I can feel the fresh wave of sadness and despair from him.

I don't know where to go, so I just walk down the hall, feeling glimpses of things here and there from occupied rooms. I hurry through the lobby, making my way outside and looking around for the nearest deserted area.

Then again, this is Ohio, so it doesn't take too long.

I sit on the sidewalk a few blocks from the hotel, looking up at the stars. I'm starting to feel better, processing and dismissing the feelings that had overwhelmed me just an hour ago.

When I check my phone next, it's almost 4am, and I begrudgingly get to my feet.

The desk attendant looks up as I approach.

"How can I help you?"

"I uh, I need a room. Isolated, if that's possible." I explain, holding up my gloves. This is Ohio, but there must be some awareness of empath courtesy here, as the attendant nods and looks at the computer.

"We have a room on the top floor, very removed." He offers, and I nod, handing over the Buzzfeed credit card that has somehow - Ryan - found its way into my wallet. They'll gladly foot the bill, since technically this is something I'm entitled to under fair inclusion laws.

I get to my room, feeling much better, but still physically tired and sad, all my own feeling.

I fall asleep quickly enough, and wake up just in time to check out before I would be charged another night. Our flight isn't until this afternoon, so I'm surprised to go back up a few floors to the room Ryan and I were sharing before... and find housekeeping inside, cleaning it up. They don't notice me, and I double check the room number before pulling my phone out to call Ryan.

"Hey, you're okay?" He asks, picking up on the first ring. There's noise on his side of the call, probably from the lobby, so I make my way back downstairs.

"Yeah, better, thanks. I'm sorry, Ry." I say, leaving the elevator and entering the lobby. I hang up when I see him. He's sitting in a chair in view of the front desk, meaning he had to have seen me check out ten minutes ago. He's dejectedly staring out the window, but when the call disconnects, he looks at his phone confused. I wave, and he looks up.

"Hey, you're here." He says, softly, carefully. I can feel him radiating feelings, but subdued more than usual. I look at what he's wearing, understanding why. He's wearing almost a comical amount of layers, at least three, maybe four shirts, although he makes it look intentional, long jeans, despite the sunny day outside, socks and sneakers. His free hand is in his pocket, and he has a hat on. Only one hand and his face are visible, and when I laugh a little, it sounds relieved.

"You didn't have to do that." I tell him, sitting down across from him. He barely move his face, just shrugs one shoulder slightly.

"It's not hard, I'll do it if it helps my friend not pass out."

"I'm sorry about that." I say, picking a piece of fuzz off my glove. "I should've known better."

"No, _I_ should've known better, I asked for it." He corrects me, but I shake my head.

"I could've said no, I did it because I wanted you to feel better, which also makes me feel better. It was half just selfish reasons." I admit. He laughs, rubbing his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

"Sure, selfish reasons. You're a jackass, Shane."

With that, everything seems okay. Ryan is a little too warm, but refuses to take off a single layer, even when TJ teases him for it. He just grins and lets it go with a shrug, and I smile slightly. The flight back is fine, and when I'm dropped off at my apartment, I don't even sit down, just put my stuff away, make myself a sandwich and head back out again, going back to the biggest and most empty park I could find.

It doesn't take long for me to recover now, after spending last night alone, but I stay out longer than I need to, long after it gets dark, just to be sure.

xXx

"No, you're not touching me, Shane, back up." Ryan says firmly, and out of surprise more than anything else, I hold my bare hands up and back off.

"Okay, fine." I say, not meeting anyone's eyes. I hear a quiet 'what the fuck?' from TJ, but we both ignore it.

"You're not doing that to yourself, not after what happened last time." Ryan tells me, the stubborn caution almost replacing his fear. I shrug, slipping my gloves back on to placate him.

Our location this time, while less horrifying, is still fairly spooky. The asylum is a little too quiet every now and then, and Ryan is doing his best to control the fear running through his body. He suggests multiple solo trips, for no other reason than to separate us.

I accept them with a huff to myself, not because I feel drained at all, but because Ryan is freaking out extra because of what he thinks may happen with me even more than what he thinks lies hidden in the darkness.

Devon and Mark don't acknowledge his mania, but TJ asks every now and then what's going on with us. Neither of us really answer.

When Ryan plays the opera music for the tall ghost, I give him a grin. The music and my goofy dancing helps put him at ease, and by the end of it, he's almost not scared at all.

We wrap up the shoot and head home without much incident, although it doesn't slip past me when Ryan goes to bed in thick sweatpants and a Buzzfeed hoodie, even though he slept in boxers last night.

I let it go.

It isn't until the next location, the Bellaire house, when I decide Ryan is treating me with kid gloves - pun intended - and needs to stop.

"It's a seance, Ryan, we're supposed to hold hands or the bullshit won't work." I explain, gesturing to the Wikipedia article on his phone.

"Fine, then put your gloves back on." He crosses his hands over his chest, which frustrates me for a different reason (his biceps, my god.)

"I don't think that's how it works, Ry, that would interrupt the circle." I argue, and at last, he concedes.

"Fine!"

"Fine."

We hold hands, both our palms sweaty. There's a charge in the air that our crew notices, and Devon throws her hands up in the air, leaving the room completely.

Although Ryan is scared tonight, it's not nearly as bad as it had been at some of our other locations, and now, a confusing emotion that I hadn't noticed on him before starts to seep into my skin.

I recognize it, but it seems out of place here, and in him. Arousal?

It takes us a minute to cool down and continue with the little ceremony. We read off the page, then Ryan makes the call to release my hands. We sit quietly, letting the ghouls have time to speak to us if they exist. Which of course, is pointless, and after a few minutes, Ryan agrees.

We make our way around the house and eventually up to the attic, where Ryan's demeanor instantly becomes more scared and less amused by everything. Even the 'spaghetti' and 'apple taters' comments seem to have been forgotten.

We sit around and talk for awhile, but when the crew leaves and we get ready for bed, Ryan's stomach growls.

"Hungry? You just brushed your teeth."

"I know. I don't have any food."

"I may have some goldfish crackers leftover from the car ride." I offer, rolling over towards my backpack, then realizing. "Oops, I forgot them in the car."

"Dammit. Pizza?" He says after a beat of quiet. I smile.

"Sounds great."

We order a pizza, leaving the cameras on until we put it down on the table in the attic. I reach over to shut it off.

"Dude, what-"

"Hey, we should talk." I tell him, cutting off his protest about the camera.

"Talk about what?" He asks, although the spike in nerves betray his nonchalance.

"Don't play dumb, Ry. You've freaked out at every location about me touching you. It's getting weird."

"Then don't touch me, Shane. I don't think I'm unreasonable in asking that." He glares at me, and although his body language says 'back off,' the nervousness and sadness speaks louder to me.

"But you're scared, I can and want to help. I've helped before without any issues, remember? London?"

"Yeah, well now I know what can happen, and this is an easy way to make sure that never happens again, okay? Drop it, please." He finishes, effectively ending our conversation.

We finish the pizza quietly, and I turn the camera back on as we wipe our greasy fingers off and stow the box by the stairs.

Nothing remarkable happens after, we head back to LA and don't mention it again.

xXx

"Movie night? I've got beers in my fridge calling for the ghoul boys." I wink, packing my laptop away as we wrap up the day's work. Ryan grins.

"Add on tacos and popcorn and you've got yourself a date."

We stop by a taco truck to pick up dinner, then head to my apartment to spend the early Friday evening.

The beautiful thing about our friendship is our ability to find comfort in silence. Even with how energetic and hot-headed Ryan is, he is good at relaxing when the time presents itself.

The movie is dumb, and we laugh. The beers are cold, and soon, four empty bottles sit on my coffee table along with our plates and napkins from the tacos.

My gloves had come off when I stepped inside earlier, and although I could feel Ryan's eyes on my skin, I refused to let it bother me.

The popcorn was ready, and we had a giant bowl resting between us on the couch. All in all, a successful movie night for the boys.

But then, our fingers brushed as we both reached for a handful at the same time, and Ryan jerked his hand back.

"What, are you seriously no-homoing me now? We've shared a bed, Ryan. We've cuddled." I point out, ire at the familiar disagreement poking its head out again. 

"I'm not no-homoing you, Shane. Let it go, don't make it weird." He grumbles, and I do let it go.

When the movie is over, he helps me clean up our trash.

"So you're just never going to touch me ever again?" I ask, knowing I'm poking the bear now, but too annoyed to care. Ryan huffs, turning around.

"Look, don't make this a me thing. You know I don't care, like you said, we've cuddled and slept together mostly naked. I just don't want whatever the fuck happened that night to never happen again."

"The night we cuddled?" I ask, although I know that's not what he means.

"Fuck you, no, that was great. The night I asked you to calm me down and you fucking passed the fuck out. And then disappeared for twelve hours." He explains, and it surprises me that he acknowledges the time we held each other all night, even called it great.

"That's not going to happen again, I won't let it." I assure him. "That was after a long night of constant moderate to strong fear and then prolonged direct contact. Fucking brushing hands or a dumb seance or a fucking hug aren't going to do that, believe me."

"How do I know that? I never know when something is overwhelming you until it's too late and you're on the floor!" He throws his hands up, and his emotions grow stronger with the action.

"I hadn't had that happen in a long time, and never outside the bedroom. Now, I know it could happen after a shoot, and I'll back off. It takes a lot to make me that overwhelmed, and I had plenty of warning, and I won't ignore them again."

"Shane." He says, his eyes getting glassy now. "You'd ignore them in a heartbeat if it meant calming me down or making me feel better. You give too much of yourself." His profound sorrow hits me now, and I almost can't brush it off.

"I won't. I felt awful. I hated it." I lean against the kitchen counter, rubbing my eyes, recalling. "My head hurt, my body hurt, I could barely move. You were so upset, that made it worse. The whole thing was way worse than if I'd just hung out and helped you calm down naturally. Trust me, I know better now." I assured him, not looking at his face now.

"I was so fucking scared. It was hell."

I look up at him then, hearing more than seeing the tears in his eyes. One ran down his cheek, disappearing into his collar.

"I tried to push you away but you kept fucking squeezing tighter, and then you fell onto the floor. You were passed out for an entire _hour_ , Shane. A _full hour_ of nothing I could do to fix it or make it better. Just wait for you to wake up and leave to go... wherever the fuck you go when shit happens. And then you did wake up and leave, and I just had to trust you knew what you were doing because going looking for you or calling you would have hurt you even more. You didn't come to bed, you didn't go to breakfast, I only knew you were alive because I saw the new room charge on the credit card. Fuck, Shane, you can never, _ever_ let that ever fucking happen again." He finishes, the tears streaming down his face as I just stare.

"I-I won't. Never ever." I promise him. I take a small step forward and hold out one pinky with the smallest smile. He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Pinky swear."

"Pinky swear." He repeats, locking his pinky against mine. Even the tiniest contact, skin-on-skin, felt amazing. Despite the wash of heartbreak and sadness, just feeling the warmth of his hand touching mine was incredible.

Giving a little push, I sent a flood of happiness into his hand, barely noticing the energy leave me. His eyes meet mine.

"Shane."

"Ryan."

"Fuck you, you know it gets me hard every time you fucking do that." He sniffles through his annoyance, and I laugh. It feels good. He still hasn't let go of my pinky. "It's so confusing because bang, it's there, but I look up and it's just your pinky touching mine and your dumb face." He jokes, although I can feel that he means nothing by the insult.

"Get used to it, baby. The more time we spend together, the better attuned I am to your emotional state and the less draining it is for me to do stuff like that." I give his pinky one little squeeze and release it, reaching over to grab a tissue and approach him slowly, wiping his tear-streaked cheeks myself while his hands automatically move to grab my elbows. My free hand rests against his neck, cupping his jaw, and I don't think I imagine the way he rocks into the contact.

"Fuck you, Shane." He laughs, his cheeks tensing up as he smiles up at me. I could kiss him, right now, but I remember at the last second, this is Ryan. My _friend_ Ryan, who is straight. Even as comfortable as he is around me, he's given me no reason to believe he's not straight, and I think that would be the kind of thing you tell your best friend. Hell, I'd told him years ago before Unsolved even started, although at the time, he looked like he wanted to laugh and just said 'I know,' patting me on the shoulder and acting no different around me.

Still, his lips are right there, and as much as it pains me to do, I pull back from him, releasing his face as he lets go of my elbows.

"Trust me?" I ask, still looking at him as I toss the tissue away. He nods.

"I do."

xXx

"So now that you're around me all the time, it makes your empath powers stronger?" Ryan asks, and I look up from the puzzle we're working on. Ryan had asked me over, citing boredom as a good enough reason to hang out on a Sunday evening.

"With you, yeah. I can sort through whatever you're feeling easier as I get used to how you feel things."

"And you don't get as tired from hanging out with me?"

"No, that's easier now too. I could probably give you a naked-on-naked hug and not be overwhelmed." I say, grinning as I see his blush overtake his face and neck.

"Okay, weirdo."

We go back to the puzzle again, Ryan working on the edge pieces as I sort through the colors and try to piece them together from the middle outwards.

"How strong are your powers then?" He asks again, this time not looking up.

"On you? Pretty strong. Why?"

"Could you make me feel stuff by not touching me?" The nervousness and embarrassment float off him, and although he's refusing to look at me, I grin.

"No, why? You feeling something?" I tease, nudging his socked foot with mine across the floor. He startles at the contact. "Not even that would do it." I reassure him, answering his question before he has to ask it. I wave my hands. "Gotta use these bad boys."

"Just uh, curious. Just wondering. No reason." He lies, finally looking up. "It's nothing."

I laugh at him a little, but let it go. Ryan will tell me what's going on when he's ready, probably by the end of the night even.

Sure enough, I lock in the last piece and put my hands up in triumph. Ryan grins. I hold my hand up for a high five, the brief contact wouldn't be long enough to tell anything or get him feeling anything.

But when his hand connects with mine, he doesn't let go, meeting my eyes with uncertainty.

Emotions flood in through my hand, and I sort through them. Affection, happiness, warmth, joy are easily identified, he feels them all daily. But some confuse me, as they're less often associated with Ryan, at least around me.

Passion, love, lust, arousal, longing, desire...

"What?" I ask aloud, looking at his eyes and trying to decipher what this is.

"What do you think?" He shoots back, lacing our fingers together so we're holding hands, but still lifted in the air. I frown, thinking. Is this some sort of weird mirror thing happening? Are my emotions getting sent back through him? That's never happened before, and I let go of his hand, not missing the way his face falls slightly when he releases me. I look at my hand, then back up at him.

"Did you feel that?"

"What was it, exactly?" He asks, getting up off the floor to sit on the couch, clasping his hands in his lap.

"It was... a lot, really." I murmur, joining him on the couch but refusing to look at him. "Really weird, actually."

"Weird how?" He asks, guarded. I look up at him, his carefully neutral posture throwing me off.

"Ryan, something weird just happened but before I can really explain it, I gotta come clean about something." I say, the words spilling out of me in a rush. Ryan's eyebrows go up, but he stays quiet, listening. "So, you know I'm... not straight..." I start, increasingly nervous as my confession comes out. I'm not really concerned he'll push me away, Ryan's a better friend than that. But I'm concerned he'll overthink it and be uncomfortable around me.

"Yes, Shane, you've mentioned you're not straight a few times." He says, carefully. I nod.

"I've kind of had a crush on you for awhile." I finally tell him, watching his face for any sign of... anything. But it doesn't move, although I see something shift in his eyes, and the nerves he's feeling sort of lessen. "For years, actually. Since about when we met."

Then his eyebrows go up, mouth twitching. I roll my eyes.

"Don't laugh at me, please."

"I'm not-" He starts, holding his hands up, though he has a shit-eating grin on his face that would say otherwise.

"Shut up, shut up." I tell him, continuing with the explanation. "When our hands touched, I sort of felt those feelings reflected back at me... sort of like..." I trail off.

"Sort of like..." He prompts, nerves coming back.

"Sort of like they do if I touch another empath, They can send feelings right back. Ryan, I... are you maybe an empath, or something? I've never heard of people gaining the sense later, but..." I frown as Ryan answers me by laughing.

"Shane, you fucking idiot."

"Fuck you, dude, do you have a better explanation?" I scowl now, feeling vulnerable and upset that he's laughing at me.

"You seriously don't get this?" He asks, finally moving to sit more comfortably. I shake my head. "Oh my god, unbelievable." He mutters, still smiling.

"Okay, wise guy, what's your explanation?" I grouse, gesturing at him. He doesn't say anything, just unbuttons his shirt while maintaining eye contact. I frown, opening my mouth to say something.

He leans into my space, reaching up to undo my shirt's buttons, only to find another shirt beneath it. He laughs again, running his hands up over my shoulders to push the first shirt off before reaching to the hem of the second shirt to pull it over my head.

"Look, I get why you'd want to get this," I gesture to my naked chest, "naked, but what the fuck is the end goal here?" I ask, bewildered, and not a little horny. Ryan rolls his eyes.

"It's an experiment. Come here." He stands up, pushing his own shirt all the way off his shoulders and letting it float to the ground. I stand, moving closer, still confused. He steps closer, grabbing my wrists to wrap my arms around him, and when he's convinced they'll stay, putting his own around my back.

He's warm with soft skin and muscles for days. I can tell he's worked out recently, because his pecs and biceps seem even rounder than they usually do, like they did after his little workout in our room in London. I try to angle my hips away from his so my own erection doesn't press against his belly, but he just steps closer, wedging his foot in between mind to fully press against me from his head resting on my shoulder all the way down to our thighs.

His hands press against my back, encouraging me to mirror the position, and I feel everything.

He's feeling warm, content, happy. He's hard against my thigh, although I can't recall sending any emotion _into_ him, just receiving the ones he's already feeling. Then again, the erection isn't shocking with the intimacy of this hug.

His arms shift, and he somehow moves closer, the tiniest hum escaping his lips as he presses them against the base of my throat. I shiver, feeling overwhelmed, not from his emotions, but from _mine._ It's an overwhelming sensation, the closeness, his little sigh against my skin.

"I'm beginning to think you're not as straight as you once proclaimed yourself." I murmur into his hair. He giggles - _giggles -_ against my chest, giving my torso a little squeeze.

"You finally get the message." He says softly, nestling his face deeper into the crook of my neck."

"Are you... are you coming out to me?" I ask, still dazed and not quite knowing what to do. "Is that what this is?"

"Shane, stop thinking and just touch me." He responds, so I do just that. I _feel_ everything he's feeling, run my hands up and down his back and pressing my lips to his head. His arms stroke my back in response, and I bury my nose in his soft hair to distract myself, try to stop the noises I'm feeling from escaping my mouth.

" _Fuck,_ I love you." I whisper before I think better of it. His hands pause momentarily on my skin, but he eventually smiles.

"I love you too, Big Guy. I'm _in love_ with you." He clarifies, and then I do make noise, and embarrassing little whimper against the top of his head, clutching him closer to me as the feeling flows through me.

"Sorry, what was that?" He asks, teasingly, pulling back from me to look at my face. I can't even be mad that he's messing with me, I'm so happy. I make another noise, pushing him upwards and leaning down so I can meet his lips in a kiss.

When I pulled away, Ryan was breathing heavily, lust taking place as the predominant emotion now. I laughed lightly, leaning back down to kiss his nose.

"That's what I thought."

xXx

We waited a week to say anything at work, one day just leaving for lunch together holding hands, and someone behind us whistled, I think it was Ned.

When we got back, a big group was waiting by our desks like vultures, with Jen sitting on mine, looking like a proud mama hen.

"My beautiful boys!" She cheered as she saw us coming back in, and although he was laughing, I could feel Ryan almost nervously shift ever so slightly behind me.

"Hey guys." I said, wrapping an arm around Ryan to the delight of our coworkers.

"When did this happen!" Zach squealed like an excited puppy. I looked at Ryan automatically.

"Few days ago, please don't tell me you won the bet." Ryan answered for us, and I frowned.

"Bet?" My confusion made everyone laugh, and I looked around at them, then back at Ryan. "What?"

"You didn't know? There's been a betting pool ever since Unsolved started about when we'd get together." He answered, giving my waist a squeeze. I scowled at our coworkers.

"That's probably an HR violation, you know." I moped. Jen lifted up a piece of paper.

"I won, actually."

"You have an unfair advantage!" Ned protests from behind her, but she holds up a finger to silence him.

"The bets placed were as follows: Zach 'Korndiddy' Kornfeld, first bet, said within the first season of Unsolved."

Zach got a few punches to the arm, which he accepted graciously. Jen continued.

"Keith Habersberger, between the finale of season 1, before shooting season 2. Ned Fulmer, before the first episode of season 2 aired. Most of the Try Guys placed these around the same time," she explained. "Steven Lim, within the first half of season 2. Zack Evans, within the second half of season 2. TJ Marchbank, within the whole of shooting and airing season 3, Supernatural."

I look over at TJ, who shrugs.

"Could've sworn it would happen in London, you guys got plastered." He says. I feel Ryan looking at me, which makes everyone make noise again, but I lift my hand up to quiet them.

"We didn't do anything, just hung out."

"We cuddled that night," Ryan reminds me, a smirk on his face. "Almost naked." I feel the blush creeping up my neck as everyone shouts. Jen whistles loudly, making everyone look back at her - including all the people _not_ insanely involved in our love life who are all trying to work at their desks.

"Eugene Lee Yang, sometime between February and April of this year, which, it being only May now, was surprisingly close." She admits. Eugene grins, again winning an unofficial Try Guys challenge. "Finally, Yours Truly. To be fair, I did place my bet last, but every other person was allowed once switch because I joined so late. Zach was gone that day, so he missed it and still lost." She grins.

"When did you place your bet?" I asked, curious now.

"Well, I didn't feel like it was really fair for me to be in it at all, but these guys told me it would be fine. I joined, actually, the day Ryan got back from Florida." She grins at me, and I shake my head minutely, not enough for anyone else to see, but her maniacal grin tells me I'm screwed anyway. "You remember, don't you Shane?"

"Yeah, yeah I do, I sure missed the little guy, thanks for sharing everyone, congrats, Jen-" I try to end it there, but she continues. I wish I'd just gotten her that pizza...

"I got to the office early that day - around 7. You were already on your second cup of coffee by then." She recalls, and my blush has fully overtaken my face now. "So I figure based on the rate you continued to drink coffee for the rest of the morning, that you arrived around 5am."

This made everyone laugh, but she cut them off before it got too bad.

"In fact, you were so distressed, I almost came over to ask you to move to a different room so I could get some fucking work done. Around 10, which is when our dear friend Ryan usually comes in, you sat up stiff as a board, like you'd just realized what time it was and that your little boyfriend would be there soon. Keep in mind-" she twisted around to look at the grins everyone else had plastered on their faces. "By this point, he'd been in the office for close to _5 hours._ Anyway, I looked at him, and his face was so... _lovestruck_."

A series of _awwwwwws_ made their way around the group.

"So this fucker is just dripping nervousness and a disgusting amount of _love_ , and who walks in, but our little friend Ryan Bergara, looking like he wants to die, but then he sees Shane."

More _aws_.

"And then, after all that, after Shane fully _knows_ how Bergara is feeling when he sees him, they _don't kiss._ Motherfuckers." She grins. "So I got up, went to the breakroom and asked Zach if I could place a bet." She pauses for effect.

"What did you put, Jen?" I ask, desperate for this to just be over so we can forget this humiliation.

"Hm, what was last Sunday's date?" She asks, grinning like a hyena as both Ryan and my jaws drop. Our friends go crazy.

"Last Sunday was May 20, Jen, please reveal your bet?" Ned yelled.

Jen unfolded the paper in her hand, which read "Sunday, May 20, these two morons will finally admit what we all know about them and make out like teenagers."

"Jen, you're a psychic." Ryan croaks, looking like if I let go of him, he would just collapse. "What the fucking hell? How did you know?"

Everyone quieted down again as Jen stood up to explain herself.

"You wouldn't talk feelings after work, that's a given. You don't hang out on Saturdays because those are recharge days, am I right?" She confirmed, satisfied with my bewildered nod. "Had to be a Sunday. I looked up your filming schedule and saw you had a few weeks' break right around now. Perfect time to relax for a movie night, yes?"

We both nod, startled by Jen's insane deduction.

"That's it. I just know my boys." She walks around us, pushing her way in between Ryan and I, standing on her toes to loop an around each of us, grinning.

Zach takes a picture, and everyone laughs.

"Kiss!" Someone shouts, and Jen ducks back out of the way, pulling her phone out and starting a video. Now everyone was chanting, "kiss, kiss, kiss!"

I looked at Ryan, placing a hand on his cheek and projecting just the lightest amount of peace so he'd relax a little. He leans up onto his toes as I lean down to meet his lips, his hands in my hair and mine on his neck. I faintly hear cheers, but I'm to wrapped up in the person I'm kissing to care. When we pull back, Ryan is grinning, shaking his head.

After that, our coworkers disperse, leaving us to ourselves. Jen winks at me as she leaves, and my phone pings later with two messages: a picture of her between us, and the video she took of our smooch.

"Well, guess that happened." I mutter, still feeling the faint blush coloring my cheeks.

"It was inevitable, really." Ryan answers, making himself comfortable as he opens up his laptop. "Seriously, though, did you have to do that right before we kissed? Now, the whole office has a video of me getting a boner because you touched my face." He shakes his head, still smiling.

"Oops." Is all I say, swooping in to kiss his head as I stand to go get us both coffee.

"Fucker."


	2. Ryan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's POV to add to the previous chapter's timeline - maybe with a few new scenes ^.^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten such a great response from the first chapter, thank you to all of you who read it! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, I couldn't just leave us with Shane's views including some pretty big timeline gaps!

**Ryan**

"I'm here with my brother, Ryan, and his boyfriend, Shane." Jake said, and I saw Shane roll his eyes. Jake has been hinting not-so-subtly about how close Shane and I are for months now, especially anytime the three of us are together. I assure Shane that he's just annoyed about being left out of the Ghoul Boys.

"Dude." I muttered, mostly out of respect for my friend. Jake just continued talking to the camera.

"But Shane's not coming, he just drove us here."

Shane tossed Jake's backpack at him, smiling lightly at my brother's antics. It's nice to see that the two of them get along pretty well even with all of the comments. Shane doesn't let a lot of things bother him.

"That would make me your big brother-in-law, right? So you have to do what I tell you." He joked, pushing Jake out of the way while he closed the trunk. I choose to not think much about Shane and Jake being brothers-in-law.

"Whatever, I don't even do what Ryan tells me to, so good luck with that." He goes just inside the airport doors to give us some space to say goodbye.

"Thanks for the ride, Big Guy." I say as I wrap my arms around his middle. Shane envelops me easily, and I feel his hands lift off my back briefly before settling back down gently.

"Anytime, Ry. Take lots of pictures at don't kill Jake when he drives you crazy." He speaks, his face resting against the top of my head. I feel my whole body relax, and I find myself leaning into Shane slightly. I feel my eyes getting a bit watery - which is ridiculous, I'll be gone for a week and then right back here.

Shane pulls off his left glove, smirking at me.

"Secret handshake for the road?" He offers, and I take him up on it. The secret handshake is our way of making a joke out of being stressed or sad, a good distraction without ignoring what's happening. Shane made it up to calm me down while shooting Supernatural.

"Dude!" Jake shouts through the doorway, getting impatient.

"I'll be back in a week." I tell Shane, although he knows this already.

"And that'll be a week too soon." He jokes, lightly punching my arm as I turn to the airport.

"Sure, buddy," I respond, smiling like an idiot.

"I'll see you." I'm almost inside the building when he yells, "Text me when you've landed."

I don't have much time to acknowledge him, so I nod and wave to him, walking with Jake towards customs.

"I've had sex that's less intimate than that hug." Jake mutters, and I feel my ears and neck burn.

We make it through security without incident, but then we have almost two hours to kill before we board the plane - thanks to my anxiety, I've never arrived at the airport with less than two hours as a buffer in case security is slow or traffic is extra bad.

Jake buys us muffins and tea, and I take one of each gratefully.

"So, when are you going to move in together?" He asks, casually. I choke on my muffin.

"What?"

"You're always at each others' places anyway, might as well save money, right?" He shrugs, still acting like this is a totally normal conversation to be having.

"Two bedrooms apartments are still expensive as hell, and I'd have to bail on the lease with my roommates." I argue, but Jake just looks at me with that look that my mom used to give us when we tried to sneak things past her. It's frightening to see that he inherited it. "Plus, I'm too intense for him to be around all the time, he'd get worn out really fast."

Fortunately, he drops the topic.

We arrive in Florida, and I bat Jake's phone away from my face as he continues to document our trip. He seems to be creating a video documentary of the entire week.

"Smile, Ryan, I'm sending this to Shane." He tells me while I shave shirtless in the bathroom. I hear the shutter noise before I have time to react, so I kick the door closed and lock it this time. I blush as I think about Shane seeing that picture. I do look good these days.

Later that day, it's a picture of me in line to buy us lunch, a camera _clicks_ and at first I think it may be an _Unsolved_ fan, but when I turn around, Jake has a stupid smile.

"Dude, what the fuck are you up to?" I ask, shoving food in his direction.

"Give it a month." Is all he tells me.

From there, every few hours or so, Jake will take a picture, and if he deems it worthy, sends it to Shane. I don't even know how they have each others' numbers.

Inside the park, Jake doubles down with the pictures, photographing the scenery, the rides and the people. I supplement his pictures of other things he cares less about, like the food.

Once we've gone on two or three rides, though, our phones get left inside Jake's backpack and neither of us takes pictures of anything.

It's only when we're back at the hotel that I check my messages, weirdly disappointed to only see work emails and a couple of texts from my mom wanting pictures of us.

xXx

"Dude, quit the pining and enjoy your fucking vacation." Jake leans forward to shut my laptop screen, where I was reading through Shane's most recent Instagram post caption.

I'd been staring between that and the picture - just him, wearing a nice shirt and leaning against a wall - for about ten minutes, despite the caption only being around 10 words long. Maybe I do have a problem... I mutter a weak 'shut up' to my brother, getting up to grab the room service menu.

"Wanna go out tonight? My college roommate from Florida told me about this great bar just outside the city." Jake offers, opening up his Uber app.

"That sounds good, I could be down for that." I agree, tossing the menu away. I love my brother, I do, but he's not the biggest talker and sitting around here can get boring as hell.

We get ready quickly, and it only takes half an hour for us to pull up at the bar.

Once inside, Jake immediately takes a shot and buys a beer, heading for the dance floor. I shake my head, watching as the bartender mixes my drink.

"Know him?" He asks, and I smile.

"My little brother. It's spring break for him, which means party hard." I say.

"Hey, you're that guy from YouTube, BuzzFeed, right?" He asks, recognizing me. I laugh lightly.

"That's me."

"Yeah, my sister watches your show. I'm surprised to see you without your buddy, the tall one." He remarks, although he doesn't seem to want a response as he walks away to take someone else's order then. I sip my drink, watching my little brother meet people and laughing with them on the floor.

The night passes quickly enough, one or two girls come up to me to chat, but I'm not really feeling a connection with either of them, maybe it's something about the distance or maybe because I'm here with my brother.

Regardless, I herd Jake into an Uber and get him back to our room around midnight, deciding we'd had enough partying for the evening.

We only had one more day of vacation, and I'd wanted to return to Disney one more time, hit up the best rides before we leave.

Jake slept in, and I hung around after breakfast checking some time-sensitive work emails. When he finally woke up, he said nothing on his way to the bathroom, and I heard the shower shortly after.

We arrived at Disney in the early afternoon, trying to avoid the longest lines to make the most of our time.

"He texted me back." I heard Jake, but didn't know what he was talking about.

"Who did?"

"Shane, look." He showed me his phone screen, where many pictures of me were sent by Jake, and Shane had responded to the last one.

_Shane (ryan bf): cute_

Cute? I scrolled up and opened the picture: me in a Hawaiian shirt mostly unbuttoned and a drink in my hand, otherwise looking pretty normal. It was from the night before.

"Huh." I said, not really sure what else to say. It wasn't necessarily a weird comment from Shane, he'd said much stranger things to me.

xXx

Shane is already at his desk when I get to the office. I can feel the relief in my tired body seeing his familiar frame.

"Hey Big Guy." I say, putting my stuff down.

"Ryan, good to have you back, buddy." He answers, and I feel myself smile hearing his voice again. He turns and looks at me, and I ignore the feeling I get from his scrutiny. I'm vaguely aware that I look different, more tan, more facial hair than normal, but still, his eyes seem to linger.

"Good to be back, I missed you." I tell him, leaning into his shoulder for a second - Shane and I don't hug much, this feels like an appropriate substitute - and then dropping into my desk chair. My general nerves at life are always soothed anytime Shane is around, especially on Supernatural shoots, but even just here in the office as well. I missed having him around.

I turn my computer on and take a sip of my coffee, settling into the quiet between us when he finally responds.

"I missed you too, little guy."

xXx

Ohio State Reformatory is actually hell.

I start freaking out before the building is even in sight, remembering what it looks like from my research and dreading spending hours inside it. Shane stiffens in the passenger seat, and I try to calm myself down, if nothing else, to give him a break. It doesn't really work.

My trip with Mark is awful, but not nearly as frightening as my solo trip. Shane looked much like I felt when I got back, and I just wanted to huddle close to him and let my fear melt away. My heart froze when I took inventory and realized I was missing the spirit box.

Shane had me go back and find it, which was only fair, I guess, but I was even more rattled on the way back than I'd been all night.

The car ride back to the hotel is silent, Shane sitting unnaturally still, Devon, Mark and Teej were tired and I was the only one wired enough to drive. My body was on autopilot, following the directions from my GPS and mechanically going through the motions.

My heart was in my throat, and once we pulled into the hotel parking lot, my brain went offline. I sat in the car for several minutes while the crew grabbed their stuff. With a sigh, Shane leaned over to release my seatbelt from the clicker, and I felt my body move to get out of the car, still dazed.

It wasn't until we got back to our room that my energy level bounced back up, and I felt the adrenaline buzzing through my veins.

"You have to calm down, buddy." Shane said softly, and I looked at him, sock-footed and bare-handed. I realized the solution was right in front of me.

"Shane, I'm sorry, I know it takes a lot out of you but I just-" I stammered. "Can you-"

"Yeah, okay little guy. C'mere." He agreed, and I could almost taste relief then. As tired as he looked, he went through the motions as I sat down next to him, relishing the squeeze of his hands around mine.

Stress, anxiety and fright flowed out of my body. I felt lightheaded at the sudden emptiness left behind, Shane hadn't relieved so much emotion so quickly the last time, and it almost concerned me.

That wasn't as concerning as watching his eyes glaze over as his body swayed where he sat.

"Shane?" I asked, trying to pull my hands away, but his held tighter.

I remember our conversation on the plane from London, how he would get overstimulated and - oh shit - black out.

"Shane! Shane let go!" I shake my hands in his grip, trying to get him to let go, _fuck_ do something, "Shane, let me go! Stop it!" I yelled, but he didn't seem to hear me.

One final yank and my hands were free, and Shane fell with a thud to the floor, wincing as his head hit the ground.

"Shane!"

_FUCK_

_whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_

Whatever amount of fear I'd been feeling before was ten times worse now.

I crouched down next to him, shaking his shoulders and shouting at him, not daring to touch his skin.

I took a deep breath. Panic is what brought this situation, now is time for level headedness. What do I know about empaths? Very little, it turns out.

In a fury, I grabbed his gloves from the bed, shoving his hands back inside them and unrolling his sleeves to meet the edge of the glove. Cover his skin. Cover my skin. I searched through my bag, finding a heavy sweatshirt and a hat, pulling them on over the layers I already had on. I'm still wearing boots that meet the bottom of my pants, but I wish I had maybe a pair of gloves or a face mask.

I dig through Shane's bag to see if maybe he has a second pair, I know he owns a couple different colors, but I haven't seen any other on this trip, just the plain black ones he has on now. I find a jacket in his bag and pull it out. Ohio is chilly at night, and Shane will no doubt go outside. I'm sweating in my layers when I finish pulling Shane's stupid long arms into the sleeves and zipping it up.

When Shane wakes up, he needs space, he will leave - which is fine, good even, he should leave me - _Fuck. -_ to recharge and recover.

I grab his boots, pulling them onto his feet and lacing them up as best I can with my shaking fingers. Both boots on, I stand up again, looking around the room.

What else, what else, what else-

He'll stay in a different room tonight - BuzzFeed will comp it, Shane is legally able to demand his own room. I pull my wallet out, removing the BuzzFeed company card and patting Shane down to find his wallet, sliding it into the front of his billfold.

Room key, I think, pulling the spare from the envelope sitting on the TV stand and setting it next to his wallet on the bed.

_FUCK_

I pace around the room, debating whether or not to let the crew know what happened, but deciding against it when I remembered they were drinking downstairs. What could they do, anyway?

I checked the battery on Shane's phone, plugging it in when I saw how low it was.

Out of ideas, I opened the curtains to the little balcony, going out and sitting on the concrete behind the glass, keeping a close eye on Shane for any sign of movement. I rested my forehead against the door, finally allowing my thoughts to flood back in, torturing me.

_stupid fuck, why would you ask him to calm you down when he was so clearly exhausted. you're so much stronger than him, why couldn't you have pulled away sooner? what if he wakes up and finally sees how selfish you are, how intense and insane and how stupid it would be for him to stay around such an emotional person? an empath would never be able to stay with a highly emotional person. this friendship has always had a time limit, looks like it's over. why do you have to get so freaked out on these shoots, why can't you be braver like he is? stupid, stupid ryan, such a stupid idiot..._

I realized I was crying when my vision blurred and I couldn't see Shane clearly. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus on his body. I sniffed loudly, pulling my own phone out and opening Google.

_what to do when empath blacks out_

I skim through the suggestions in the results. Leave them alone, give them a note and leave, cover them up (it seems Shane isn't alone when it comes to passing out during sex, there are several articles specific to that situation), cover your own skin, nothing particularly helpful. I try a new search.

_relieving over-stimulation for empath_

These results aren't much more helpful, citing nature walks, time alone and healthy food for an overwhelmed empath. Frustrated, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and focused my attention back towards Shane, still laying limp on the floor. I just stared at him, mind blank, unaware of how much time was going by.

My breath caught as I saw Shane move slightly, curling his fists in closer to his body and bringing his knees up. I was back inside in a second, unplugging his phone and slipping it back into his pocket, moving into the bathroom to get a washcloth to cool his skin.

I could hear him shifting, and I hurried back into the room, dripping wet washcloth in hand.

His eyes are open, and even through the blinding nervousness, panic and fear, the slightest relief joins the cocktail of confusion.

"Oh thank fuck." I whisper, and he looks over at me. A tear falls from my face and he flinches when it hits his neck. I squat down, wiping the sweat from his face and feeling the cool cloth warm up with his too-hot skin. Fuck, he needs to get out of here.

As if he's reading my mind - not too far off, I guess - he jumps up to his feet, nearly falling over again in the motion. He makes a faint noise, and I try not to imagine it in another scenario as I move in to steady him.

I help him to sit down on the bed, nudging his wallet and key closer to his hand.

"Ryan, I gotta go." He says, voice crackling and hoarse. He sounds awful, and consequently, I feel awful. I try to sound reassuring, understanding when I respond.

"I know, buddy. I know."

He looks down at his feet and to his side, grabbing his key and wallet, standing up again. He looks at me, an expression I don't see much on his face: profound sorrow.

And then he's gone.

I fiddle around the room for a minute, foolishly wondering if he'll be back before bed, refreshed and smiling that sheepish smile. But it takes him an entire day and a half every weekend just to recover from hanging out with me for a normal week, how could one hour outside in an unfamiliar place recharge him enough after _fucking passing out_.

Wondering if he'd maybe texted me something, I check my phone, noting the time. Fuck, we'd been back at the hotel for almost two hours now, most of which, Shane had been unconscious on the floor. He hadn't sent me anything.

Flopping back on the bed, I start feeling the emotions I'd been holding back spill over the dam and into my body. _I_ feel exhausted, and I'm just a normal person.

Time passes slowly as I lay there, feeling awful. I don't notice myself fall asleep, but when I wake up around 6am and Shane is still gone, I just flop back down again, even sadder.

_I broke Shane..._

I wake up again around 9, immediately opening up my laptop to check the credit card charges. If Shane got a room last night, it would be listed there. If not, I would extend the trip for a day, send the crew home and go looking for him.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I see the charge pending, just after 4am, one room in the hotel.

I pack up my laptop and put away my clothes and toiletries, then put all of Shane's stuff away as well, checking the closet and drawers for any other forgotten items.

After checking us out, I find a chair in the corner of the lobby where I'll be able to see if Shane comes down. I gather the suitcases and backpacks around me, settling in for awhile.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long, and I catch sight of a familiar pair of chinos stepping out of the elevator before I look up at his face.

Relief washes through me, he's looking far better than he was last night. His skin has lost the pale, grey color and his eyes are looking more alert.

Although not so alert that he notices me sitting there.

He checks out, returns both room keys, and right when I think he'll turn around and join me in the lobby, he heads back into the elevator and goes upstairs.

Must not have realized I'm here and thinks I'm still in our room, which shows how tired he still is. He would normally look at the time and know that I had already checked out since we're leaving today.

A few minutes later, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I roll my eyes at the caller.

"Hey, you're okay?" I ask as a greeting. I look out the window at the cars passing by, feeling slight anxiety returning.

"Yeah, better, thanks. I'm sorry, Ry." He apologizes, and I frown. I've opened my mouth to respond when I hear the telltale beep of a call being disconnected.

I look up as he waves, almost shyly, standing in front of where I sit.

"Hey, you're here," I say, rather blandly. I'm fighting hard to keep any emotions in check. He looks me over, noticing the absurd amount of clothing I have on. He laughs. I can't ignore the smile creeping onto my face at the sound. _god i missed that._

"You didn't have to do that." He says, sitting near me. I shrug.

"It's not hard, I'll do it if it helps my friend not pass out." I try not to sound too bitter, or make him think it's his fault. I fail, because he looks down self-consciously to mess with his gloves.

"I'm sorry about that. I should've known better."

"No, _I_ should've known better, I asked for it." I remind him, but he doesn't look convinced.

"I could've said no, I did it because I wanted you to feel better, which also makes me feel better. It was half just selfish reasons."

I laugh at the absurdity of that, wiping my sleeve across sleepy eyes.

"Sure, selfish reasons. You're a jackass, Shane." But I can't keep the obvious affection out of my voice.

I look at how he tilts his chin down, almost like asking 'we good?' without saying a word. I smile, nodding at him and getting up, shoving his stuff at him.

I'm immediately sweating when we go outside, calling a cab to meet the crew at the airport. Shane tells me it's okay to take off some layers - he won't die - but I shake my head.

xXx

Shane sometimes doesn't know when to back the fuck off. Even when I tell him to his face.

Fucking Shane.

The second time he tries to hold hands, it's not for comfort, but I still refuse. The stupid seance instructions on my phone light up the room more than the candle on the table, and Shane's gloves mock me from where they lie beside it.

"Fine, then put your gloves back on." I compromise, gesturing at them. Shane rolls his eyes.

"I don't think that's how it works, Ry, that would interrupt the circle."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

He takes my hands, and I ignore the feeling that passes between our fingers. If I had a crush on Shane (which I _don't_ ), it may have felt a bit like electricity. Or something.

Shane's hands are clammy, and my nerves combined with the feelings I _don't_ have for Shane make my palms sweat too.

The seance is unsuccessful, even I can admit. The hilarious 'spaghetti' and 'apple tater' spirit box results had lightened my mood considerably, but I still couldn't ignore my anxiety when we reached the spooky attic.

Then again, I was starving, so we ordered a pizza and sat on the floor to eat it.

Shane turned off the camera, and sure, footage of us eating wouldn't be fun to watch, but I liked to have at least one camera rolling the entire time we're on location just in case something abnormal happens, like it did in London and we only caught the tail end of it.

"Dude, what-" I say around a mouthful of pizza, but his look cuts me off.

"Hey, we should talk."

I feel my heart pounding louder, but chalk it up to my aversion to confrontation. If Shane wants to talk, it must be pretty bad.

"Talk about what?" I ask, dumbly.

"Don't play dumb, Ry." Fuck... "You've freaked out at every location about me touching you. It's getting weird."

I feel my defenses rise, annoyed at being called out so directly.

"Then don't touch me, Shane. I don't think I'm being unreasonable in asking that." I snarl, knowing full well that I am being an unreasonable friend, but not willing to let what happened ever happen again.

 _Fuck,_ my palms are sweating again, and I blink rapidly a couple of times to not let myself start crying over this _again_.

"But you're scared, I can and want to help." Shane argues, although softer now. I shake my head, I was more scared when it happened than I'd ever been on a shoot. He continues. "I've helped before without any issues, remember? London?"

 _London_...

"Yeah, well now I know what _can_ happen, and this is an easy way to make sure that never happens again, okay?" I snap, then quieter, add, "Drop it, please."

Surprisingly, he does drop it, letting us finish our pizza in silence and turning the camera back on.

He let it be until I accidentally let our hands brush reaching for popcorn at his apartment.

"What, are you seriously no-homoing me now? We've shared a bed, Ryan. We've cuddled."

I ignore the shiver that runs up my spine, remembering the feeling of waking up pressed against Shane... _not now, Ryan._

"I'm not no-homoing you, Shane. Let it go, don't make it weird." I know I'm pouting, but what else do you want from me?

I mull over everything for the rest of the movie - my reactions to Shane, the way I always seem to gravitate to him in a room, how he makes me feel relaxed even without using any of his... powers... on me. The way he always makes me laugh even in the most sour mood. _What the fuck is going on in your head, Bergara?_

Automatically, I scoop our trash up, taking it into the kitchen when Shane speaks again.

"So you're just never going to touch me ever again?" He prods, and with a heavy sigh, I turn to look at his stupid face.

"Look, don't make this a me thing. You know I don't care, like you said, we've cuddled and slept together mostly naked." _Down, boy._ "I just don't want whatever the fuck happened that night to never happen again."

"The night we cuddled?" Damn it, Shane.

"Fuck you, no, that was great." I admit, surprising myself. I suck in a breath. "The night I asked you to calm me down and you fucking passed the fuck out. And then disappeared for twelve hours." My voice has an edge to it that even I hate hearing.

"That's not going to happen again, I won't let it. That was after a long night of constant moderate to strong fear and then prolonged direct contact. " He explains, waving those stupid, pale, bare hands that I want dragging along my skin and wrapping around my body. _What the fuck was that?_ He continues, "Fucking brushing hands or a dumb seance or a fucking hug aren't going to do that, believe me."

_I want a fucking hug..._

I'm flustered now, feeling my neck flush, my hands are shaking and I just want this fight to be over, but I respond anyway, the pain of that night finding its way back into my head.

"How do I know that? I never know when something is overwhelming you until it's too late and you're on the floor!" I'm exasperated now, knowing full well that this argument and my subsequent emotions are likely going to drive Shane away again, but I can't help it.

"I hadn't had that happen in a long time, and never outside the bedroom."

_Fuck, how overpowering would it be for him to have sex with me..._

WHAT-

Shane hasn't stopped.

"Now, I know it could happen after a shoot, and I'll back off. It takes a lot to make me that overwhelmed, and I had plenty of warning, and I won't ignore them again."

That's a lie if I ever heard one, but I can tell that Shane almost buys his own lie. I know him better than that. I notice my eyes welling up again.

"Shane, you'd ignore them in a heartbeat if it meant calming me down or making me feel better. You give too much of yourself."

It's the honest truth, and nothing I hadn't told him before.

"I won't. I felt awful. I hated it." He leans back, tired now. I don't blame him. "My head hurt, my body hurt, I could barely move. You were so upset," I _was_ more upset than I'd ever been, "That made it worse." God, I _know._ "The whole thing was way worse than if I'd just hung out and helped you calm down naturally. Trust me, I know better now."

His voice is reassuring, but I hesitate to believe his words. I know for a fact that if we were both dying, Shane Madej would use his last bits of energy to put a smile on my face.

"I was so fucking scared. It was hell."

My voice barely registers to my own ears it's so quiet and sad. I clear my throat, trying to calm myself down. My tears ran down my cheeks while he watched from the other side of my kitchen.

I feel the words tumbling out before I really think about them, but Shane isn't understanding how _important_ this is.

"I tried to push you away but you kept fucking squeezing tighter," My fists clench as they recall the sensation. "-and then you fell onto the floor. You were passed out for an entire _hour_ , Shane. A _full hour_ of nothing I could do to fix it or make it better. Just wait for you to wake up and leave to go... wherever the fuck you go when shit happens." I don't want him to feel bad, that's not why I'm telling him this. I want him to _understand_ how much it sucked.

"And then you did wake up and leave, and I just had to trust you knew what you were doing because going looking for you or calling you would have hurt you even more. You didn't come to bed, you didn't go to breakfast, I only knew you were alive because I saw the new room charge on the credit card." _which he hadn't even checked to see if he had before leaving._ "Fuck, Shane, you can never, _ever_ let that ever fucking happen again."

Weeping now, I can barely choke out the last sentence, and I think Shane finally gets the message, because when I look up, he's crying too.

"I-I won't. Never ever." He whispers. I look back down, watching his feet shuffle closer.

He holds his pinky out for me to latch onto, which I do, laughing in relief.

"Pinky swear." He murmurs.

"Pinky swear." I whisper back, linking my pinky together with his.

Until I touched him, I didn't realize how much I'd missed this - a transfer of energy, a warm hand against mine...

_fuck, i want to spoon the hell out of this man..._

He gave me a little taste of joy through our joint fingers, one which dissipated quickly, but definitely registered in my brain before it was gone. I felt my lips part on a sigh of his name.

"Shane..."

_that sigh said way too fucking much-_

"Ryan."

Sure, confident, understanding. I'm feeling like I'm ready to fall apart in this man's arms and he's just sitting down to dinner. I roll my eyes as his little _present_ as he'd once called it settled down in my lower belly, and then my pants tighten.

"Fuck you." I say, the affection taking any sting away from my words, "you know it gets me hard every time you fucking do that." I fight my smile, but he still laughs. I try to hold onto the moment. "It's so confusing because, bang, it's there, but I look up and it's just your pinky" _just that fucking pinky that I want inside of me- "_ touching mine and-" _i want i want i want_ "-your dumb face."

My inner monologue is going rogue, and I try to stamp it down and ignore it. That doesn't work very well.

"Get used to it, baby," _fuckkkkk_ "The more time we spend together, the better attuned I am to your emotional state and the less draining it is for me to do stuff like that."

He squeezes my pinky once, then lets go. He grabs a tissue from the counter and approaches me like you would approach a scared animal.

Lifting one hand to cup my face, he wipes gently at my damp face. I rest my hands on his elbows.

_he's touching my neck and i never want him to let go_

"Fuck you, Shane." I hear myself say, and I can't convince my brain that I imagine the way his eyes dip down to my lips, and linger there for a few seconds. He even begins to lean in before pulling away at the last second.

I barely manage to swallow the whimper rising up my throat when he pulls away.

_what the fucking hell was that?_

I've never been under the impression that Shane is straight. He's fooled around with as many guys in bars as girls, and although his one serious relationship during our friendship was with a woman, I'm reasonably sure he swings both ways. I even remember vaguely in a fog of drunken memories him mentioning being bi or pan or something.

_SO WHY THE FUCK DID HE NOT KISS ME_

My inner monologue is fuming, agitated, and Shane must be able to read it on me, even without his gift, just from my body language as I shift uncomfortably. If he does notice, he doesn't remark on it.

"Trust me?" He finally asks, and what a stupid question.

"I do."

Of course I do, that's never been in question.

I don't trust _me._

xXx

I don't know what to do about this...

_crush._

Fuck, there it is. No ignoring it now.

 _Crush_ even seems like a weak word to describe it. Infatuation, longing desire might be more appropriate.

Of course, a tiny, _tiny_ part of my mind has been wondering if it's possible that Shane may be making me feel this way.

It had started after the first time he'd _touched_ me, and gotten worse ever since. Before that incident, I'd barely acknowledged the physicality of my co-host slash best friend.

Hell, I'm not even gay.

Well, that may not be necessarily true, now.

I don't think Shane would intentionally use his powers to seduce me, but maybe it's a side effect of them.

One night, I ask Shane over to my apartment to hang out. We pulled out a puzzle to work on while something played quietly in the background.

I finally venture to ask the questions I'd written down carefully beforehand so I wouldn't overthink the wording.

"So now that you're around me all the time, it makes your empath powers stronger?"

There, casual enough. Shane doesn't even look up.

"With you, yeah. I can sort through whatever you're feeling easier as I get used to how you feel things."

Huh.

"And you don't get as tired from hanging out with me?" Fuck knows I'm a handful even for non-empaths.

"No, that's easier now too. I could probably give you a naked-on-naked hug and not be overwhelmed."

_fucking hell-_

A heavy blush takes over my face, and I can't meet his eyes.

"Okay weirdo."

I take some time, just working across from him quietly.

"How strong are your powers, then?" I prod, keeping my focus down as I get into what I'm really trying to figure out.

"On you? Pretty strong. Why?" He knows I have an angle, but probably thinks I want him to do something for me.

"Could you make me feel stuff by not touching me?" I ask, my final and most important question coming out strangled and weak.

Even without powers, I can feel the smugness drifting off of him.

"No, why? You feeling something?" He nudges my foot with his, and even though both of us are wearing socks, I jump at the feeling, opening my mouth to ask the obvious. "Not even that would do it, gotta use these bad boys." He answers, doing jazz hands.

"Just uh- curious. Just wondering. No reason. It's nothing." I tell him. He clearly doesn't buy it, but doesn't push.

_he knows, he must know. it's so obvious._

But he doesn't, he would have said something, made a joke, crowded me physically. Confirmed, somehow.

We finish the puzzle, and inspiration strikes when he lifts his hand for a celebratory high five.

Our hands meet with a satisfying slap, but I keep mine pressed against his, following it when he moves to pull away.

Everything I'm feeling flows through me, I don't identify each emotion, but I know he can. I'm looking into his eyes while he analyzes everything.

"What?" He asks, and I feel my heart beat in my face as I reply.

"What do you think?" I ask, hesitant. My fingers wind in between his, locking our hands together. I can tell he's not getting it when he frowns.

This is _too_ obvious and he's overthinking it. So much for Shane being the logical one between the two of us.

"Did you feel that?" He asks, withdrawing his hand from mine.

I move from the floor up onto the couch, folding my hands together to give at least the appearance of calmness.

"What was it, exactly?" I ask carefully. I'm going to have to walk him through this...

"It was- a lot, really. Really weird, actually." He says, sitting next to me.

"Weird how?" I ask, not moving from my position even as he makes himself comfortable around me. Those long, slim legs fold up for him to lean his side against the back of the couch, but he refuses to look at my face.

"Ryan, something weird just happened, but before I can really explain it, I gotta come clean about something." He says, hesitant, but presses on. This'll be good. "So, you know I'm... not straight..." He begins, and I nod.

"Yes, Shane, you've mentioned you're not straight a few times." I remind him. Granted, we weren't necessarily sober, but I'd gotten the message.

"I've kind of had a crush on you for awhile." He admits, and I feel my mind relax. Okay, I can work with this. Okay, alright... yeah. He keeps going. "For years, actually. Since about when we met." He finishes, and then my face reacts. "Don't laugh at me, please." He almost sighs.

"I'm not-" I protest, although my giant grin may take some of the effect away.

"Shut up, shut up." He tells me in that _way,_ that _Shane_ way that he does. "When our hands touched, I sort of felt those feelings reflected back at me..." Ah, here we go, "sort of like..." C'mon, buddy, almost there...

"Sort of like" _I like you back, you fucking buffoon. This is so fucking easy, I'm feeding you your information._

"Sort of like they do if I touch another empath," WHAT THE FUCK "They can send feelings right back." WHAT THE F- "Ryan, I... are you maybe an empath, or something?"

 _ACQUIRING EMPATH POWERS MID-TWENTIES IS A BETTER, MORE LOGICAL, REASONABLE EXPLANATION THAN YOUR BEST FRIEND BEING IN LOVE WITH YOU?? AND_ I'M _THE CRAZY ONE???_

I want to scream at him, take him by the shoulders and shake him until his giant head clears up and he's thinking straight. Or thinking gay. Whatever.

"I've never heard of people gaining the sense later, but..."

He's talking, but I can't hear him. I'm laughing my fucking head off, out of frustration and because this whole thing is _so damn funny._

"Shane, you fucking idiot." I finally manage.

"Fuck you, dude, do you have a better explanation?"

_Yes, I fucking do_

But Shane looks annoyed, he doesn't get it. He's felt exactly, precisely what I'm feeling several times and has no fucking clue.

"You seriously don't get this?" I ask, moving now that the weird energy between us has shifted. Shane shakes his head, and even through this, I can't help but smile. "Oh my god, unbelievable."

I'm really going to have to hold his hand and point out the flashing neon signs for him to understand me.

"Okay, wise guy, what's your explanation?" He grumbles at me.

I respond by stripping, opening the front of my shirt, then his. Fucking Shane, with so many layers in fucking _May_ in LA. I laugh, pushing both up and off his head.

"Look, I get why you'd want to get this naked," He gestures goofily to his chest. "But what the fuck is the end goal here?" He asks, and even just with my plain eyesight, I can see the light flush over his cheeks and neck, the slight bulge in his chinos where he's beginning to get hard.

I shrug.

"It's an experiment. Come here." I get up, letting my shirt fall away and waiting for him to face me.

I literally have to hold his hands, wrapping his noodle arms around my torso, holding them there for a second before I'm convinced he'll keep them there.

Then, I wrap my arms around him, silently glad that I worked out that morning while Shane was presumably somewhere enjoying nature.

When Shane tries to hide his erection from me, I just get closer, pressing against him fully and even leaning my cheek on his shoulder. I love our height difference especially in hugs, he's always so soft and smells so good.

I push my hands into his back, squeezing his body to me, and apparently that awakens something in him, and he lays his palms against my bare back, reading my emotions. I melt against him, feeling my very soul relax in his arms.

Maybe I am a little gay after all.

I hum lightly, snuggling even closer, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. Shane vibrates, a shiver running from his core outwards. I feel his throat buzz as he speaks.

"I'm beginning to think you're not a straight as you once proclaimed yourself." He says, and he finally is starting to get it. I let out a relieved little laugh.

"You finally get the message." I say, hugging him closer still.

"Are you... are you coming out to me? Is that what this is?"

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my head and leave them there.

Yes, Shane, shirtless hug is the best way I could come up with to tell you that I like men.

"Shane, stop thinking and just touch me." My inner monologue finally comes out, and I have to be relieved it's a bit tamer than earlier.

My heart melts into a little puddle when he kisses my hair. Little sounds vibrate in his throat, but don't make it all the way out while he noses my hair softly.

" _Fuck_ , I love you." Does make it out, and I freeze, my heart skipping one beat and then doubling its previous tattoo.

"I love you too, Big Guy." I tell him, and though we don't say it often, it doesn't feel right. "I'm _in love_ with you." I tell him, and _fuck_ does that feel right.

Another noise, a whimper, maybe, a whine, to be honest, escapes him. I smile, my cheeks hurting from the exertion.

" _Sorry,_ what was that?" I tease, releasing him to look up at his pale, flushed face. He doesn't seem to mind, though, and with a sigh, he pulls me up and kisses me.

_fucking finally_

Although it's tame and brief, my soul leaves my body in that moment and I'm left panting.

_more more more more more more more more_

He kisses my nose, _fucker,_ and smirks.

"That's what I thought."

_my turn_

A growl leaves my throat, and I give him one well-aimed shove backwards and he lands on the couch.

I waste no time straddling his thighs, making myself comfortable on his lap, hands landing on his shoulders. His lips are parted in surprise, and I take acute pleasure in the way his blown-out pupils follow my movements.

"You tell me the goddamn second this gets to be too much, you hear me?" I demand, leaving no room for protest. He nods vaguely, and I lean down to kiss him again.

If he was expecting rough and frantic, he hides his surprise well. I give him the softest, gentlest kiss I'm capable of in this state, leaning my hips into his and cupping his face with all the care in the world.

His hands, formerly bracing himself against the back of the couch, come in to sit on my hips, thumbs stroking the skin above my pants.

I feel him hard beneath me, and although it takes every ounce of control, I only shift slightly so that he can feel my erection pressed into his stomach.

All we do is kiss, really, a little tongue here and there, I bite his lip softly once. A really easy start.

I give it ten minutes or so, then pull back, my skin leaving his, the only contact being my clothed legs and ass against his.

"How is that?" I ask, my hand twitching with restraint as I see his messy hair falling over his face.

"Incredible, Ry. I'm buzzing with energy right now." He says, running a shaking hand through his hair. I grin.

"Think you can kiss me another few minutes and still make it into work tomorrow?"

"I think we can make that work." He smiles, and I lean back in, keeping our kisses even tamer now.

Fuck, even if it takes a full year for Shane to get to the point that fucking is okay, I'll wait. He's goddamn special and he needs to know it.

Of course, I'll have to take care of myself alone, but hey, I do that now. At least I'll have a sexy, adorable boyfriend to kiss in addition to that.

Eventually, Shane does tap out.

I scoot off his lap, grabbing my shirt and getting ready to leave so he doesn't have to ask. _This is your apartment, dingbat._

"You can stay, I'm okay." He says, running his hands up and down his arms. "I just need to breathe for a second."

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" I ask, which I know is not usually something you get into with your best friend _or_ your recent hookup, but I want him to know I'm comfortable talking.

"I've kissed people within the last... year..." Shane ponders, not embarrassed. "But sex... yeah, it's been awhile." He admits. I can read between the lines.

"You tell me what you want and when. Zero pressure from me, zero expectation." I hold my hands up, lounging against the arm of the couch.

"You say that now..." He begins, but when he doesn't finish the sentence, I move closer, catching his eye and trying to communicate my seriousness.

"Shane, I've been friends with you for how many years now? And how many times have we had sex? I'm not going anywhere." I tell him, and surprisingly, it seems to work.

"I don't want to screw up what we have."

"After everything we've been through, you think that's possible?" I ask, and a smile dances on his lips.

"I love you, Ry."

"I love you too, Big Guy."

xXx

It does take awhile, it takes almost a month for us to get past just making out. Each time, Shane lasts longer before tapping out, and we would sometimes keep hanging out, sometimes he would kiss me one more time and leave.

Once, he left his own apartment with me in it, where I was stranded, since he'd driven us over. I woke up in the middle of the night to feel his arms loosely wrapped around me. It had to be uncomfortable, since we were on the couch, and I smiled that he had joined me here instead of going to bed. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed his shoulder and behind his knees, carrying him bridal style into his bedroom. It was hardly worth it, since he woke up anyway and it was such a chore to get his long-ass legs through his doorway without conking him on the head.

One day, he comes over on a Saturday. I'm shocked to see him.

"I'm taking you out." He tells me, grabbing my jacket off the hook and handing it to me. I just blink at him.

As it turns out, I've seen Shane on a Saturday maybe once or twice. We never film on weekends, we only hang out evenings or Sundays, and Saturday has remained exclusively recharge day for the entirety of our relationship.

Because of this, I never shower on Saturdays, the only exceptions are if some non-Shane activities are planned, and those are rare. I hardly ever even put contacts in, just wearing glasses around the house. Glasses, dirty hair, stained basketball shorts, a ratty tshirt.

Still, I feel like any objection at all would break this spell, so I agree.

"Okay."

Shane takes me on a long, pretty drive. We come up on a lake, driving along the side for awhile before he takes a turn that I would've missed, even if I'd been looking for it.

The car is quiet, Shane has gloves on, and I'm more than a little confused.

Shane's words ' _do you trust me?'_ echo in my head, and no matter how weird he is, I always do.

"Here." He finally says, parking the car and getting out.

This place is nothing magical. It's a dirty little bench, the finish worn off the wood, looking over a nothing-special section of the lake.

But from the way Shane is looking at everything, it's like he's seeing it for the first time and coming home after a long trip at the same time.

He holds this place dear, he doesn't even have to tell me why he comes here or why he's brought me. It's like bringing me home with him, and I feel myself get a little choked up at the gesture. The little piece of metal burning in my jacket pocket reminds me of my own gesture for later on.

We walk over to sit on the bench, the sun to our backs and six inches between us. He looks over the water, I look at him.

He glances at me and I whip my face forward, almost embarrassed to be caught staring. He just laughs lightly and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"I think you know why we're here." His voice is soft. "This is where I come to _be."_

"It's beautiful." I say, because really, it is. A hidden spot for a weary mind, just _being_.

"It's not, and I know that." He says, something funny in his voice I can't quite place. "It's not the most beautiful spot around this lake, even. But it's _my_ spot. You're the first person I've ever brought here, and I've never seen anyone else come by. Although, someone must've been here at some point, because the bench was here the first time I found it." He shrugs.

"This is really special, Big Guy," I tell him, and I lean against his side. "It means a lot that you'd bring me."

He just hums in response, looking out at the water. I can feel any prominent emotions relax, falling back into the recesses of myself. I'm thinking about nothing and everything, feeling just a distant hum of what I would normally feel all the time.

I think Shane can feel my peace as well, since he pulls me closer and rests his head on mine.

"You're quiet." He finally says.

"It feels like talking isn't the reason we're here." I say.

"No, you're _quiet_. I've never felt you so calm."

He's right, and the tranquil energy around me remains.

Maybe empaths have the right idea, take a day away from stress and work and _city_ , and it'll help you relax. Bring you peace.

I couldn't tell you how long we sat there. I'd left my phone in the car, and his is always on silent. Nothing to disrupt us, nothing to distract, just two people sitting on a bench together, watching the ripples on the lake.

"I came here while you were gone."

"Hm?" I ask, almost dazed.

"While you were in Florida. I came here on a Wednesday. This is where I wrote the first Hot Daga song." He tells me.

"Fuck that song." I smile, but there's no fire behind my words. "I missed you the whole trip. Felt wrong to be having fun without you with me." I admit.

"I know. But I'm glad you went, Jake had fun."

I let the words hang in the air, just thinking about how insanely lucky I feel right here in this moment. If only this sense of calm could follow me back home.

xXx

The drive back is quiet, but I feel energized, relaxed and floaty the whole way. When Shane parks in my apartment's lot instead of dropping me off, I don't think anything of it.

When he closes the door and strips his shirt off immediately, an alert went off in my brain. Still, I felt so good, so relaxed, that I just looked at him, no particular emotion taking over.

"I'm ready for you, Ry." He says, undoing the button of his pants and sliding them down, kicking off his boxers, socks and shoes at the same time.

Shane was in front of me, stripped naked, and I smiled, losing my own shirt.

"You devious bastard." I say, understanding his plan.

We made it into my bedroom, and Shane lay down on the bed, settling in. I looked at him while I took off my shorts, letting the underwear go with them.

"Same rules, if you feel even slightly like it's too much, just let me know and we can take a break or stop." I tell him, moving to my dresser to pull out what I'd selfishly stockpiled the day we first kissed: gloves, thick and thin, lube and condoms. I set the bottle of lube down on top of the dresser, pulling the thinner pair of gloves on and grabbing a condom.

"I will- what's with the gloves?" He asks.

"I thought it might help to start slow, but foreplay is still a thing." I shrug, flexing my fingers. I put the condom down on the bed near him, lounging on my side next to him. He nods slightly, and I ghost one glove over his side, tickling lightly as he squirms. I smile, planting my hand now firmly on his hip and leaning up for a kiss.

We have hours of practice just kissing, but now, knowing we're moving further than just fooling around, there's an added intensity.

Shane sighs when I bite his lip, one hand lifting from the bed to settle on my shoulder. Like a cue, that signals me to scoot closer, pressing my front against his side, nestling my leg in between his.

His hand on my shoulder slides down my side, ghosting over my ribs and firmly grabbing my ass. _fuck._

I shift again, straddling him and pushing his shoulders into the bed, my lips moving across his jaw and down his neck, and when I bite down on the skin there, Shane's hips buck up against mine.

" _Fuck, hang on-"_ He chokes, and I pull back, lifting my hands. He breathes heavily for a few seconds, then nods at me.

Fuck, I thought it might ruin the mood to have to pause, but it somehow just adds to it.

I'm biting and licking his neck again while he slowly grinds his hips against mine, although from the position I'm sitting on him, it can't provide much relief.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna hold your cock." I whisper into his ear, and he gives a full-body shudder.

" _fuckkkk."_

He's almost vibrating now, and his groans when I slip one gloved hand between us to hold his cock. _Fuck,_ he's hard.

We'd talked about this before, more sensitive areas of the body, hands, lips, feet, dick, tend to absorb the most emotion, and it was my idea to wear gloves while handling his junk, at least for now. It seems to be helping, although judging my the _fucking delicious_ noises he's making, the sensation is still good.

I gave him a few, slow strokes, settling back to watch him close his eyes. _fuck, he's gorgeous._

So far so good, I pick up the pace leaning back down to kiss his lips again, bracing my weight on one arm.

The wet noises from kissing and the soft sound of breathing calm me, and I'm more relaxed than I would think is possible during the first fuck with my boyfriend.

Ducking my head, I press wet kisses down his neck, across his shoulder and down his chest. I capture one nipple between my teeth, and Shane _melts_ into the sheets with a moan.

"Ry-" He sighs, and I'm not sure if that's a request or not, so I pull back to check just in case. He smiles. "No, keep going. I like that."

Happy to oblige, I move to the other nipple, licking and nipping at it, stroking his cock evenly. He puts his hands into my hair, grasping at it and giving slight pulls here and there.

One more lick, and I pull off him completely, relishing the little whine he gives when I stand up.

"Give me one second, Big Guy," I smile, grabbing the lube off the dresser and pulling off one glove. "Is this okay?" I ask, gently pressing against the inside of his thigh to make room for myself. Shane nods, biting his lower lip. _fuck, that's cute,_ I huff out a laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

I lube up my fingers, settling between Shane's thighs and pressing little kisses to his thighs as I spread lube over his hole. It feels unreal, almost, to finally be here.

With the first dip inside, barely one knuckle deep, I hear Shane's gasp and whimpers. Fuck, this is already so hot.

"Okay?" I confirm, pressing deeper when he gives me the slightest nod.

 _Damn._ Shane is _noisy_ in bed, and I couldn't be happier with the revelation.

I slowly finger-fuck him open, adding a second, then third finger, pausing frequently for him to catch his breath. His breath catches as I move three fingers in and out of his hole, grazing his prostate.

"Fuck, pull out, pull out-" He pushes at my shoulders, and I pull back, sitting back on the bed, away from his skin. He's panting, flushed and glistening in sweat.

I wait a few minutes, as he relaxes and his breathing softens back into a normal pace.

"What if..." I begin, catching his attention. "Would it help if you send some of it back into me? Like, maybe it would help to release some of it back instead of absorbing it all?" I end on a question, and who knows, maybe it's a dumb idea, but Shane thinks about it.

"That might help, actually. I can try."

Slowly, I re-insert my fingers, and he plants his palms against my shoulders. I can feel a complicated hum of emotion flooding back into my body, and shit, it's no wonder he gets so overwhelmed, it's a lot.

"It does help." He whispers, his hole clenching slightly around my fingers as I hit his prostate again. "Ry, I'm ready for you. Put your cock in me."

_fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-_

"You sure?" I croak, but he just smiles.

"I'm sure."

I pull away from him, grabbing the condom - the extra layer, thin as it may be, should help dull the contact a little - and rolling it down my shaft. After generously lubing myself up, I brace my arms by his shoulders, where his hands rest delicately against my biceps. _always knew he was a sucker for them._

Looking at his face for any sign of hesitation, I line myself up and slowly push inside of him.

Immediately, my arms start to tremble with the cocktail of feelings that flow from his hands into me. It's _so much_ , but not more than I've felt before, and I push into him further.

Shane groans as my cock enters him, but he doesn't tell me to stop. I'm moving slowly, and the feelings seeping out of him intensify the deeper I get. Once I'm fully inside him, my cockhead buried deep in his heat, I check in with him again.

"You alright?"

"Never been better, baby." His voice is strained, but the familiar grin takes shape on his face, and I relax.

"Don't call me baby." I repeat with a smile, a joke from a long time ago, back when I thought Shane was just my best friend. _fool._

I slowly pull back out, thrusting slowly, evenly back inside. It's almost torture, Shane is _so fucking tight_ , but I take my time, warming him up.

Soon, Shane's hips are meeting mine, thrust for thrust, and the rhythm picks up. The slap of his skin against mine is erotic in the quiet of the room, and every little moan and whimper that falls from Shane's lips make my heartbeat kick up a notch. His hands tighten around me, and the sensation of the energy entering my body goes straight to my dick.

Almost embarrassingly quickly, I'm on the edge, Shane's ass squeezing my cock tightly and his fingers digging into my arms, his legs wrapped around my hips and head thrown back against the pillow.

_I want to take a picture and frame it, hang it on my wall to look at every day._

"Shane, I'm- I'm close-" I hiss, my hips stuttering in their thrusts.

"Come on then, give it to me."

_fuckkkkkkk_

I feel my balls tighten, and seconds later, I'm spilling into the condom. _fuck._

I shift my weight as my orgasm dies down, pulling out and flopping to the side of Shane.

"That was so hot." He says quietly, clasping his hands together, an almost nervous gesture that I can see a mile away now. "Fuck, Ryan."

"Can I make you cum?" I ask, reaching my hand over to hover near his cock. He nods, face flushed pink and looking like sin.

It only takes a few strokes, he's already so wound up. I keep stroking him as he finishes, his cock throbbing in my hand. He rolls over on his side, eyelids drooping and lips parted.

"You good?" I ask, softly, my still gloved left hand pushing his damp hair back off his forehead. He nods, a small smile gracing his lips. I smile back.

I get up, throwing away the condom and going into the bathroom. A shower sounds great right now, although a part of me worries that if I take one, Shane will be gone when I get out. But if he needs the space, he needs the space.

I leave the door cracked open, in case he wants to clean up or - _fuck_ \- join me, but I don't hear anything.

When I'm done, I wrap a towel around my hips, heading back into my bedroom to get dressed. The door is open still, and I peek inside.

_aw fucking hell_

Shane is curled in on his side, naked still, snoring softly. I'm weirdly endeared by the little puddle of drool on the pillow by his mouth. His snoring calms my nerves, so I know he's only asleep and not unconscious. I quietly lift the sheet from where it got kicked down to the bottom of the bed, laying it gently over his shoulders.

My dresser drawer creaks when I open it to grab underwear, but Shane doesn't stir.

I leave him to rest while I order us some food, sitting on the couch in the living room in my underwear. As I scroll through Instagram and Twitter, sipping a glass of water, the snores from my room stop for a second, but resume as I shifted to get up and check on him.

A knock at the door startles me, and I realize I shouldn't answer it in boxers, so I grab Shane's shirt from where it fell by the door, pulling it on and thanking my lucky stars that it covers everything important. Sure, I look stupid, but it's not too bad.

The delivery guy gives me a weird look, but just drops the food off and leaves.

"Well don't you look great wearing my clothes."

I jump at the sleepy voice behind me, turning around to see Shane leaning against the doorway, his hair rumpled, creases on his cheek from the pillow.

"Hey, sleeping beauty." I joke, putting the bag down in the kitchen and getting him a glass of water. "Feeling okay?"

"Little sore." He says, and sure enough, he's walking a bit funny. "But overall... yeah, I'm good."

I'm relieved, to say the least. Our first time together and nothing disastrous happened. I moved toward him, holding out a glass of water.

"I'm glad. C'mon, Big Guy, I got us Chinese."

xXx

Shane ate an insane amount of food, and we ended up ordering a pizza for dessert. When I went to grab my wallet from my jacket pocket, my fingers brushed the cool metal of another object, and I pulled that out as well.

"So, I thought, now that we're... dating, and shit," I fumbled around the words now, dropping the pizza down on the table, where Shane had immediately grabbed it.

"Yes?" He prodded, mouth full of food. I rolled my eyes, relaxing and sitting across from him.

"I'm giving you this. It's uh... it's the key to my apartment. I mean, obviously, what else would it be a key to-" I start to ramble, but Shane is still, pizza in one hand, the other resting flat on the table. "You okay?" I asked.

"I- yeah, yeah- I'm-"

His fingers crept across the table to where the key sat, poking it hesitantly before sliding it back to himself.

"Thanks, little guy. I- thanks." He smiled back at me, pocketing the key and grinning that mischievous grin at me. I couldn't help but grin back.

I took a slice of pizza too, and it was quiet save for the sounds of chewing and an occasional swallow.

Then I froze, mid bite, to ask.

"Wait, what the fuck do you mean, ' _first_ Hot Daga song?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm debating whether or not a little epilogue is necessary after their first time together, maybe hear what Shane has to say about it... Let me know in the comments if that's something you'd like to read! Also, thanks to everyone who has sent me messages, I thrive off feedback and want to know your thoughts on the story!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the main story, but keep an eye out for a followup of Ryan's POV during some select moments!


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